


All Our Broken Places

by yehetmeup



Series: Exodus Mall [5]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 03:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16925904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehetmeup/pseuds/yehetmeup
Summary: If Kyungsoo is the brains behind Barada Pizza, Chanyeol is the bravado. Flirting with customers young and old in his loud and cheerful voice, in between calling out orders. With his ability to seemingly remember every customer’s name and order it’s no surprise that everyone who meets him falls in love. Outside of work he has no problem living up to his nickname of Playboy Park, with his personality and good looks. But beneath his bravado is a heart that he gave away years ago, to a girl who won’t even give him the time of day anymore.





	All Our Broken Places

January 6th, 1997

It’s the usual slow Monday night for Chanyeol, wiping down the counters, humming along to the mall’s radio. A laugh behind him draws his focus and he smiles at the last two employees to leave.

‘Have a good night,’ he says to Luis and Donna as they head out for the night.

‘You too man, see you tomorrow,’ Luis says. Chanyeol drops his rag to do his traditional dramatic handshake with Luis.

Donna laughs. ‘At this rate we’ll never leave,’ she sighs, but she can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

A moment later they finish and Chanyeol gives them a wave, watching as they head out into the wide expanse of the mall. He doesn’t usually like silence, preferring to be in the company of friends; but every now and then he enjoys the peace and quiet of tidying up by himself after a long day of work.

He feels proud of what he and Kyungsoo have built - a successful pizza parlor, a good job for a fantastic staff; something he can look at and say that he created and nurtured it from the ground up.

Movement up ahead draws his attention. A woman is leaving the jewelry shop at the other end of the mall a few stores down. She waves goodbye to old Mr. Simpson and he closes the gate behind her.

Even though her head is turned, his skin feels electric. Something about her is wildly familiar in an alarming way. ‘It can’t be,’ he says softly to himself in disbelief.

When you turn around to face the doors, making your way to the exit, a noise leaves him. Not a whine or a groan, but somewhere in between.

He’s hallucinating, he thinks to himself. He’s having a stroke. You’re a ghost. You’ve time traveled here like in Back to the Future.

All are more likely than the fact that you’re here, in Washington, in the same mall as him.

But no, he admits, watching you sweep your hair behind your ear with a smile - it’s you. No mistaking it.

He leans on the counter and watches, transfixed, as you walk across the marble floors to the exit, your hips swaying in your crisp navy dress.

Finally, you’re out of his sight. Released from his trance, he finishes his closing duties at lightning speed and grabs his coat from the back.

He quickly makes his way to the mall’s exit and lingers by the door, pretending to be waiting for someone. After a few minutes the kind older man finally shuts the gate once more and approaches the doors.

Chanyeol gives a friendly wave as Joe approaches him. ‘Hey Joe, how’s it going?’ he starts with an attempt at nonchalance.

'Going good, Mr. Park. How goes the pizza business? My wife quite likes the veggie delight,’ Mr. Simpson replies, giving Chanyeol a broad smile.

'That’s good to hear. The business is going well,’ he answers with similar warmth, trying not to reveal how anxious he is to find out what you’re doing here. 'Did you finally find someone to fill that open position? Didn’t recognize the person leaving a bit ago.’

'Sure bet. Came all the way from some fancy gallery in Georgia. Lucky she was excited to move back home to Washington. My old army buddy recommended her; sweet girl, whip smart too. Graduated with a degree in metalwork and jewelry design. Should be a great help to us in expanding our youth market,’ he says with a pleased inclination of his head. 'Well I should be getting home, see you around.’

‘See you around,’ Chanyeol repeats in a cheerful voice with a nod.

He watches Joe brave the chilly January winds as he heads for his car. He toys with the edge of his sweatshirt while he stands there.

In the two years he’s owned and run Barada pizza in the Exodus Mall with his best friend Kyungsoo, Joe’s always been friendly and helpful. The jewelry store has been there since the mall opened in the sixties. These days it’s mostly Joe’s sons Alex and Donald that run the day to day, but for important things like hiring he likes to do it personally.

Steeling himself, Chanyeol finally pushes out the door and walks to his car. He whistles while he walks, attempting levity. It should crush him, that you’re back. Probably with a boyfriend, or maybe even a husband, to start a new life in your hometown.

But for some reason, he feels excited.

A long dormant part of him woke up at seeing you again, even if you are his ex-girlfriend. A fire in his heart he’d have thought was long dead and extinguished. But it’s been five years, he reminds himself. A lot can change, and he’s more than ready to fan those flames.

'Well, this should be interesting,’ he says to himself with a tilt of his head, as if bowing to fate, and unlocks his car.

January 20th, 1997

'Are you sure you want me to go?’ you ask, your purse halfway onto your shoulder.

'Yes, yes. Go. It’s just pneumonia, I’m not going to die on you I promise,’ your father says in his usual booming voice, only slightly tinged from a rasping cough. It would worry you, but the cough is already miles better than it was when you first arrived earlier in the month.

'Hey. That’s not funny,’ you counter with a frown, putting your hands on your hips.

'I’m sorry, pumpkin. I won’t joke anymore,’ he says warmly, throwing his hands up in chastisement. He motions to the door with his remote. 'Now let me watch the Thunderbirds game in peace. Besides, you have much more exciting things to do than take care of your old man.’

'Ah yes, an exciting evening of reading ahead of me. Can’t miss out on that,’ you reply in a droll voice that makes him laugh.

He motions again with a dramatic raise of his eyebrows and you laugh. 'All right, all right. I’m going. I’ll see you on Friday.’

When you’re to the door you hear him call out softly. 'Thank you for coming to help out, I don’t know if I’ve said that enough.’

You turn around, hand on the door. You know it must cost him every time he admits that he needed help.

After your mother passed when you were twelve it was just the two of you. You were their late in life child of love and after she died you both did your best to cope. He threw himself into his job at Boeing and you took every college art class you could. He chose to work and you chose to learn and create. You co-existed as best you could, each surviving despite the huge hole in your life.

After he retired a few years ago he started taking up with the Mountaineers, going on hikes for exercise and camaraderie. When he called you in the middle of December and told you he picked up a nasty case of pneumonia after a long weekend of snowshoeing, you decided to move back to Washington.

After living in Savannah, Georgia for college and a year after working at a small reputable gallery downtown, it was time to face the music, as the saying goes. After five years it was time to come back even though home brought with it painful memories. Memories of… him.

Your father is getting older and you wanted to be closer to home. And even though you love the art scene, sweet tea, and Southern hospitality, your heart and soul flourishes at home in Seattle in a way it never quite did in Savannah.

Your best friend in Savannah is always up for an adventure and jumped at the chance to leave her own issues behind and catch a new start. It took less than five minutes for her to decide to join you.

It was lucky that your boss at the gallery was incredible and remembered that an old friend of his from the army was living in Seattle and had a jewelry store. He called and found that Simpson and Sons Jewelers could use some help.

He put in a good word for you and after a phone interview, a whirlwind of packing up your life, and a cross country trip over New Year’s weekend, you made it home.

A wild three weeks full of finding an apartment, getting settled at work, helping your roommate look for a job, checking on your father, and normal things like sleeping and eating later, you finally feel like you’re getting into a routine.

Though you know your father hates admitting he could use some help with the persistent illness, it’s clear that he loves having you home.

'Don’t mention it dad. You know I love seeing you, and Seattle. I was always going to move back. Even if this is a little sooner than I planned I’m glad to be here. And I’m very glad you’re feeling better.’

He just nods, uncharacteristic emotion coming to his face. With a final attempt at gruff sternness he motions you to the door again and this time you finally leave with a wave.

On a spur of the moment you decide to drive the scenic way back downtown from your father’s house in Ballard. The sight of the Seattle skyline in the evening light, the Space Needle lit up, makes you sigh.

You flip the radio until you reach 107.7 The End, your favorite alternative station. Hitting the steering wheel with one palm in time to the beat, you relax further into your seat.

As you pull up to the apartment you wait for the Foo Fighters song to finish with a smile. You walk up to the door and take a deep breath. When you let it out, shivering, you watch as it fogs in the air in front of you.

'God, it’s good to be home,’ you say to yourself with a laugh and hurry inside.

Your roommate practically tackles you the second you’re inside. 'I GOT THE JOB I GOT THE JOB,’ she chants excitedly, jumping up and down while hugging you.

With a laugh you reach out to hold her shoulders, trying to make her stand still long enough for you to get a word in. Finally she stops and smiles.

'Well? Tell me all about it!’ you say, taking her into the kitchen and pulling out some glasses. 'Sit, sit.’

She posts up at the stool against the counter and practically vibrates with excitement. 'I loved the place! You’re right, it’s such a great mall and the pizza place is hopping. Soooo much better of a job for me than what I was doing in Georgia, thanks for letting me know about it.’

'I saw the flyer on my way to the bathroom and it seemed perfect for you,’ you say, reaching into the fridge to find the bottle of wine.

'The hours are great, everyone seems really friendly. I start tomorrow! Chanyeol says I can get a shirt then, so I just need to find some good-’ she continues, not seeming to take a breath.

You stand up and stare at her, mouth agape. 'What? What’s wrong?’ she asks.

'Did you say Chanyeol?’ you say in a voice barely above a whisper.

'Yeah, it’s owned by two guys. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, but only Chanyeol was there today and he’s the one that hired me,’ she says. 'That still doesn’t answer why you look like you’re going to pass out.’

'His name isn’t Park Chanyeol is it? Tall, ears that stick out like this,’ you say steadily, motioning to tip down the tops of your ears slightly. 'Looks like a happy puppy when he smiles?’

She gives you a puzzled look and then nods. ‘Yeah, how did you know?’ she asks incredulously.

A line from one of your favorite movies flits through your mind. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you smile sadly to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

Of all the pizza parlors in all the malls in Washington more like, you think to yourself, huffing out a disbelieving laugh.

‘Remember that guy I told you about from high school? The one that broke my heart and dumped me a few weeks before graduation?’ you ask, feeling proud of the fact that you don’t want to cry just thinking about him anymore.

Her jaw drops in shock. ‘Holy shit, that’s right. His name was Chanyeol, wasn’t it? You haven’t mentioned him in years. Oh my gosh, I can totally turn down the job offer. No questions asked, I can find something else,’ she says emphatically.

You think for a second before shaking your head. ‘No, no. It’s okay, I appreciate it though. Kyungsoo was a good friend of mine too and I’m sure he’s a great boss. I can’t say I’ll visit you at work,’ you laugh, ‘But it should be fine.’

Already you know in your heart that being this close to the love of your life is going to be an experiment in masochism. But you never did take the easy road, you think with a tilt of your lips.

'Anyways, keep going,’ you say, filling both glasses, grateful for a task to focus on. ‘What’s the job like?’

January 28th, 1997

For days you brace yourself for the first time you’ll see him. You avoid the food court end of the mall, parking in front of the department store on the other side and always entering and exiting through there.

Your pack your lunch everyday and eat in the back room, reading at the small table they have rather than going out to the food court. But while you’ve been worrying about running into Chanyeol, it never crosses your mind to worry about running into other old friends.

At noon you trade off with Donald and head to the back to begin your lunch break. When you get to your locker you groan in frustration, finding only a granola bar and an apple in the paper bag.

You and your roommate both have an early shift today and in the morning rush she must have taken your lunch. She laughs to herself that she always tries to bring food but usually just has a salad and a slice from work because the food is so good.

For a minute you seriously consider just sucking it up and eating her ‘lunch,’ giving a longing thought to the beautiful seared chicken and vegetables you’d packed. You chew on your lip for a moment before you remember what day it is. Tuesday, you think with a smile.

You’d both decided not to discuss work or her bosses, but your one request from your roommate was to tell you what days Chanyeol has off and she reported back Tuesdays and Wednesdays.

You sling your purse over your shoulder and grab the paper bag, heading back through the store in the direction of the food court. She’s running a pizza out to a table, a wide grin on her face, when you come over.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ she asks with a smile, her excited energy palpable.

‘Good, I think we switched lunches though,’ you say with a laugh, holding out the bag so she can peek inside.

She laughs. ‘Oh my god, sorry. Let me go grab yours real quick! I thought the bag felt way too heavy,’ she says and darts off to the back.

You nod and step over to look at the menu, more for something to do than because you think you’ll ever have a chance to eat here. A man turns and pulls a pizza from the massive stone oven, wiping his brow with his arm in the heat. After slicing it and plating it he turns around to ring a small bell.

The two of you make eye contact and both freeze. He straightens, coming back to himself and wiping his hands on a towel before giving you a faint smile.

‘Long time, no see,’ Kyungsoo calls in his usual steady voice. He taps the man next to him making dough, pointing to the oven and saying something you can’t hear.

You fight the urge to run. He’s one of Chanyeol’s best friends, along with Baekhyun. At least, he was in high school.

After the break up you severed yourself from the whole group, aside from your best friend at the time, Hitchcock. She and Baekhyun worked at the theater together and were thick as thieves. All of you were, once upon a time.

He walks over and takes a deep breath. ‘Your roommate said you worked in the mall,’ he starts, just as she dashes out from the back room, brandishing the bag.

‘Here you go, sorry again!’ she says in a rush.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ you say and swap her bags.

Her eyes find yours, raising her brows slightly and tilting her head to Kyungsoo, silently asking if you’re okay. You nod and manage to paste a smile on your face. She gives you a skeptical look but then shrugs and goes back to her tables.

Now that it’s just the two of you, silence settles again, as it always did when it was just you and Kyungsoo. He was your first friend when you transferred to Burke High School from Ballard High for Junior year, so you could take college courses at the U.

He also introduced you to Chanyeol, a fact that seems like it’s on both of your minds as you stand there awkwardly. Oceans of words exist between you, topics that feel too dangerous to touch. You settle for the easiest.

‘Yeah, I just started at Simpson and Sons a few weeks ago,’ you supply.

‘Did you come back for the job?’ he asks levelly and you want to laugh.

It was always his way, to be direct. Direct, but never cruel. Kyungsoo preferred the reality of things, and it made him a perfect counterpart to Chanyeol who loved to dream of exciting new possibilities and fantasize about the future.

They made a hell of a pair. You wonder if they still do.

‘Sort of. My dad’s sick with pneumonia and I came back to help. My old boss found this one for me and it all sort of… worked out. I didn’t come back for -’ you start but have no idea how to finish.

You didn’t come back to relive the past. You didn’t come back for Chanyeol, but to say it so bluntly feels too harsh, especially to Kyungsoo.

‘So you’re telling me you’re not here because you and Baekhyun are secretly getting married,’ he quips, tilting his head in the direction of the movie theater, his lips tugging into a smile.

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding as a laugh. In everything that happened you’d completely forgotten how funny he could be, how good of friends you were.

‘Darn, you figured me out. We were going to elope this weekend but we both had to work,’ you say with a dramatic sigh. He laughs and you feel some of the tension dissipate.

Whatever happened with Chanyeol, you and Kyungsoo were always friends. Might be again, you think. At the very least he’s one less person you have to be afraid of running into in the mall now.

‘Well, I should probably go eat,’ you say, holding up the bag. ‘But I’ll see you around?’ You don’t intend the question, but it slips out. 

‘For sure. I’ll see you around,’ he says and gives you a friendly tilt of his head before walking back over to the busy oven.

January 30th, 1997

‘Really? Fargo? I swear you made me watch this a few months ago, but I might have been tipsy at the time,’ your roommate says with a whine as you get in line for the theater.

‘Come on, it’s going to be nominated for an Oscar, I can feel it,’ you reply, shaking her shoulders and making her laugh. ‘And the Cohen brothers are amazing, I had a class in college on-’

‘Okay, fineeeee,’ she says with a laugh, throwing up her hands in surrender. ‘I trust you.’

‘Excellent,’ you say, rubbing your hands together, imitating Mr. Burns and making her laugh.

While you wait in the astonishingly long Friday night line for tickets you can’t help but remember all the time you spent here in high school. Baekhyun and Hitchcock worked here for years. You and your friends would routinely be snuck into the Thursday night preview screenings that they watched.

Though the movie would be playing on the screen, you weren’t usually paying it much attention. 

Instead, your focus was normally on your boyfriend’s hand where it rested underneath your shirt, the warmth of his palm pressing against your low back. His lips working against your neck was much more fascinating than even The Silence of the Lambs, though you made him go see it again that weekend and he mostly managed to let you focus.

It happened so often that you can almost feel the ancient seat cushions making your ass numb, smell the stale dried soda and popcorn that made the floor a sticky mess. You can almost hear the loud ruckus Hitchcock and Baekhyun would make a few rows up, discussing the movie.

Your insides clench together when you remember how Chanyeol used to look, wild and free, his hair messed up, his lips pink from all the kissing. The way the theater used to feel like an oasis from the world that the two of you could get lost in together.

You chew on your lip as you get your tickets and walk to the ticket stand, lost in nostalgia.

'Oh my god, Y/N?’ comes a familiar excited female voice from your right.

You blink several times and see your old friend in front of you. 

She looks almost the same as she did in high school, sitting there at the ticket stand, in her black and gold work uniform, her hair messily thrown back into a bun. The grin on her face as she looks you up and down is the same as it always was. An unexpected wave of emotion floods you as you and your roommate approach.

She stands, holding out her arms for a hug and you step into her familiar warmth. ‘How’s it going, Hitch?’ you say, the sound muffled against her shoulder while she squeezes you.

She pulls back and gives you a sassy look. ‘‘How’s it going?’ Please. As if your ass can come in here after what? Three years since we last saw each other? And only get away with a ‘how’s it going,’’ she says with a wink. ‘You owe me a long night catch up at Denny’s, woman.’

‘Hi, I’m Hitchcock,’ she says with a smile, turning to extend a hand to your roommate. ‘Not my real name, but it may as well be.’

You watch as they shake hands and introduce themselves. It’s odd, you think, as the two best friends you’ve ever had meet. It’s as if the two halves of your whole are coming together and you don’t know whether the thought should scare you or comfort you.

‘Here, let me grab these for you,’ Hitchcock says, tearing the tickets. ‘Fargo’s just up ahead in six. I take it you know the way?’ she asks with a knowing look.

‘Sure bet I do. I’ll call you to get shakes?’ you ask with a raise of your brows.

‘Deal,’ she says and smacks your butt as you walk by, making you bark out a laugh.

February 3rd, 1997

‘So, you and Baekhyun are still at the theater, then?’ you ask, folding your menu and setting it between the rack as the waitress walks away.

‘Yeah, we have jobs downtown at Microsoft, but I’ll be damned if we can escape the theater,’ she says with a wry grin, drumming her fingers on the back of the booth, her arm lazily slung over it. ‘We do part time nights and weekends.’

‘Isn’t it exhausting, doing both?’ you ask, quirking a brow.

‘Meh. Maybe a bit, but you know us. We love the excitement. Microsoft is fun, sure. But Baekhyun and I aren’t exactly the corporate types,’ she continues with a sigh.

‘Wasn’t he going to apply to be a manager at the theater at some point?’ you ask. ‘I swear his dream was the run the place someday.’

‘We’ve both been supervisors for a few years now. But he’d have to go full time to be a manager and it’s hard to work more than thirty hours a week with a normal people job during the day,’ she continues, pursing her lips.

‘Anyways, you’re doing that thing where you distract me like you think I’m going to forget all the important questions I have for you,’ she says with a laugh, pointing her finger in mock accusation at you as the waitress brings the milkshakes and basket of fries to your table.

‘So what brings you back, kid?’ she asks, tilting forward to take a huge draw from the Oreo milkshake in front of her. You open your mouth to start talking but she holds up a hand. ‘On second thought. A better question, why didn’t you come back after graduation? I thought you said you were going to move back then?’

There’s no bitterness or judgement in her tone, but you still find it hard to meet her eyes. You put a few fries in your mouth and chew, mostly as something to do to prolong explaining.

She laughs and nudges your foot under the table. ‘Y/N, just spit it out. It’s just me.’

You release a huge breath and look to the ceiling. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I just - I’m sorry I stayed away. I’m sorry I stopped writing and calling and visiting after a while. It was just…’ you shrug. ‘I had a new start and it felt so good to be free of… everything here. I never intended to leave you too.’

When you finally look back she smiles. ‘I know, babe. It’s okay. I understood. You did all your crying and mourning that summer, and I was happy to see you go to Georgia.’ She pauses and dips a fry in her shake before eating it. ‘Sad we weren’t all taking on Seattle and college together, sure, but I never resented that you left.’

‘I never forgave him, you know,’ she says around her mouthful, a beat later.

‘Chanyeol?’ you say, his name feeling like ice against your tongue.

‘Yeah. For ending it like he did. You guys spent two years being the most disgusting, in love couple ever and then he just ends it? I didn’t talk to him for years, even though we work so close on the weekends,’ she says with a frown.

‘Really? But Baekhyun and him still hang out, right?’ you say, perplexed.

‘Oh yeah, and it made trying to plan our weekends a piece of work,’ she says with a snort. ‘It’s only in the last hmmm. Six months maybe, that I’ve even hung out with him in groups at all. You were, and still are, one of my best friends. But we just… don’t talk about it. I don’t know what he said to Baekhyun and Kyungsoo to explain himself. I never asked, but you know I always had your back.’

Emotion twists your lips together. ‘You absolutely did,’ you say nudging her foot under the table as well.

‘So… have you seen him yet?’ she asks cautiously.

‘No. And I don’t plan to. I’d love to go back to being best friends, if you can forgive me for falling out of touch? But if we could just… not talk about him. That would be great,’ you finish with a sigh.

‘What do you mean go back to being best friends? We never stopped,’ she says with a wink.

She picks up a fry and considers it. ‘And talk about who? I have no idea who you’re referring to. Harrison Ford? Denzel Washington? Brad Pitt?’ she continues with another wink and munches the fry. ‘Now tell me what brought you back.’

February 19th, 1997

The moment you hear your roommate shut the door to head off to her opening shift you throw off your covers with an excited noise.

A whole day to yourself to work on your latest project. It feels like its been years since you last held the tools in your hand, crafting the detailed necklace you dreamed up in December.

Reaching your hands to the sky you let out a breath, feeling the blood rush through your body as it wakes itself up. You throw on a sweatshirt and extra thick socks, still in disbelief at how cold it is in February here.

I guess I got acclimated to the South, you think with a wry grin, grabbing a cup. Your roommate blessedly left you a cup’s worth of coffee in the maker and you could have kissed her for it.

You pick up the phone while you drink and call your dad to check in. The clearness and strength of his voice makes you smile. You arrange to come over for brunch on Sunday and hang up the phone feeling light and happy.

The threads of your old life seem to be binding themselves back together. With one notable exception, you think with a frown.

The image of Chanyeol, laughing, bent over and smacking his knee at a joke runs through your mind. Wearing his enormous sweatshirt, snuggled up next to you watching Saturday Night Live in Baekhyun’s basement. 

With a groan and a shake of your head you force yourself to move.

A small corner of the living room has enough space for your work table and materials. A plastic storage organizer of stones waits in the corner, your tools still in their carrying cases next to it.

Sitting down at the table, you tip the cup back and finish off your coffee. You reach out a hand to trace the burnished bronze loops you’ve fitted so far.

You pull out your sketchpad from the drawer and flip to the design you had in mind. A honeycomb shape of bronze loops, interlaid with lapis lazuli stones. The centerpiece is your favorite part, a beautiful sapphire you’d found at a market in Savannah over the holidays.

You click on the radio and get to work. As you lay out the pieces and resume soldering them together, you adjust your design to suit your flow. The hours pass and you lose yourself in your work, humming along to the music.

When the Radiohead song comes on you nearly smack your thumb off while shaping a loop with a hammer. The whack on the table feels as loud as the thumping of your heart at hearing the beginnings of that song.

You close your eyes and debate whether to turn the radio off or to let it play on. It’s impossible to listen to it without hearing his low voice singing along. You let yourself bleed internally, rather than shutting it off and saving yourself.

It’s a miracle you haven’t run into him yet, you think. Either by some combination of your avoidance and his or by divine providence.

His laugh echoes through your mind again. The way he used to sit in the corner of your garage, a pencil between his teeth while he toyed around with some cords and you worked on some pieces.

Agitated, you stand up to make yourself a hurried sandwich. Blessedly the song changes to a Nirvana hit, but still the past lingers in your mind. You shove the food into your mouth at rapid speed so you can have both your hands free again.

‘Come on, kids, you guys have to eat,’ you hear your dad’s voice and how he’d always chuckle, bringing you and Chanyeol lunch.

The two of you used to work for hours non-stop, so lost in your creations that you’d forget to eat, forget what day it was. The world narrowed to the sketchpad or metals and stones in front of you, and the way Chanyeol would absently reach out a hand to trace a pattern on your knee while he wrote.

You were going to spend forever that way.

He would write music and play local shows, busking at Pike Place on the weekends. His band with two friends from his advanced music class, Yeol and the Salty Wolves, had been playing house parties and the occasional show at the Showbox on their underage nights and were starting to gain some traction.

You’d planned to make jewelry and sell it at a stall at the Market, maybe get a job at the local coffee shop if you needed extra money. The two of you were going to go to school in the area, studying your passions and working to make them a reality.

Sure, you were sad to not be going to your dream school, the Savannah College of Art and Design in Georgia. You’d gotten a full scholarship, and you knew it made your father frown to think that all the hard work and studying you’d done would ‘go to waste.’

But you had love, your art, your friends, and Seattle.

It was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

Until he said he couldn’t do this anymore and left you at the end of April. It was years ago, but the pain is suddenly so intense it feels as if it’s happening all over again. ‘Our futures are just heading in different directions, I can’t do this anymore,’ his words, said in a lifeless tone, echo in your mind.

A distant ringing draws you from your bitter nostalgia. With a start you realize it’s the phone. You reach out a hand and finally shut off the radio, rushing over to grab the it.

‘Hello?’ you manage to get out, your voice sounding rusty to your own ears.

‘Hey lady, we still on for tonight? I’ll pick you up at seven?’ comes the cheerful female voice.

You stand there, perplexed. It’s not Hitchcock or your roommate. Suddenly you remember; your friend from the chocolate shop in the mall. You’d bonded over a mutual love of art and at lunch a few weeks ago and had become friends.

She’d invited you out dancing with the group yesterday when you tagged along with her to the art supply store.

‘Yes! Sorry, been caught up making this necklace,’ you say with a laugh. ‘God, what time is it?’

‘It’s six o’clock,’ she answers in an amused voice.

‘Oh shit. Umm. Yes, yes. I’m getting ready now!’ you say, looking out the window to see it’s now almost dark outside. You’d turned on your desk lamp without even noticing it.

She laughs. ‘I do the same thing when I paint, do you need more time?’

‘No, no. An hour is plenty, I’ll be ready!’ you say, carrying the phone into your room and opening your closet.

‘I’ll see you then,’ she says with another laugh and hangs up the phone.

You blindly pull out a dress from your closet and dig out a pair of heels from under your bed. You pull your hair loose from its clip and dash into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

Your heart leaps into your throat at the thought that you might see Chanyeol tonight. Fear, excitement, and a raw, exposed sensation battle for dominance in you.

Suddenly, you’re breathless and you laugh, putting a hand to your chest as you wait for the water to get warm.

Your roommate will be there, Hitchcock and your new friend too, you remind yourself. You are no longer eighteen, you’re an adult. The sun and stars no longer hang in the sky just because Chanyeol put them there.

You don’t need his love or attention to make you feel whole, at least not anymore.

‘It’s going to be just fine,’ you say to yourself, stepping into the shower.

If you say it enough times you can almost make yourself believe it.

‘When are you guys going to play another show, man?’ Minseok asks loudly over the music. ‘I miss your concerts.’

Chanyeol sighs. ‘Hopefully soon. Eric’s wife just had a kid so he’s been busy as hell, and Vince is still on that tour through Europe as a backup guitarist. Who knows,’ he says with a shrug. ‘I’m mostly working on solo stuff for now, but none of it’s ready to play in front of anyone yet.’

‘That’s fair. Let me know when you have something, I’d be happy to talk to my buddy at Moe’s to get you some stage time,’ Minseok says.

‘Thanks man, I appreciate that a lot,’ he replies, clinking his beer to his friend’s.

‘Oh my god, look at that,’ Minseok says with a laugh, pointing to the dance floor.

Chanyeol doubles over with laughter against Minseok’s shoulder when he sees Baekhyun dancing like an idiot. He’s holding his beer over his head and shaking his hips, making Hitchcock cackle with laughter.

With a sigh Chanyeol rights himself and takes a sip of his drink, finishing it and watching the crowd. For the ten millionth time he wonders when his friends are going to get together.

Baekhyun watches Hitchcock dramatically dance next to him with stars in his eyes. Chanyeol snorts to himself and shakes his head. His friend has been in love since… oh, junior year, if he had to guess.

But no matter how either of them feels, they’ve never acted on it; something he can’t fathom. When he first saw you, he knew within a second you were meant to be together. Making you his became his sole purpose in life, winning out over even music for dominance in his focus.

Kyungsoo met you first, in an advanced placement math class. The first time he brought you to sit with the group at lunch, the second week of school, Chanyeol’s heart felt like it exploded. The more he got to know you, his intensity only grew.

Your quiet confidence, the passion you had for studying, the reverence you held for art, in any form; it seemed like you were specifically designed to ruin him for loving anyone else.

He notices his drink is empty and stands, heading to the bar. He looks around at Yixing, Minseok, and the others at the table and figures out who could use a refill.

While he waits for the bartender he grins, remembering the single-minded ferocity with which he pursued you. The way in which you absorbed all his thoughts until you finally agreed to go out with him that Halloween. 

And how after that first date, that first kiss, you absorbed his entire body and soul as well.

He finds the locker with his hip, cocking it out and doing his best to look nonchalant.

When you walk by on your way to class, absorbed as you always are with whatever current book is in your hand, he looks up at the ceiling. It’s his normal routine, waiting with his friends Baekhyun and Kyungsoo against the lockers.

‘Hey Y/N, how’s it going?’ Baekhyun calls in a friendly voice. ‘See you at lunch?’

You look up with a smile. ‘Yeah, I’ll see you guys there.’

With a friendly nod to the three of them you carry on walking, diving back into your book. He groans, wishing that you’d given any indication you feel the same way about him, but there’s never a change in your expression when you notice him, that he can tell.

He hopes that one day you’ll see him, hopes that it will be him that gets to journey with you between classes instead of your rotating novel of the week. Hopes that the excitement in your eyes when the two of you talk music or movies at lunch will extend to a more than just friendship soon.

With a sigh and a twist of his lips he laughs to himself. Always, he tries to impress you, and always, he fails. Next to him Kyungsoo finally finds what he’s looking for and pulls back, shutting his locker and giving his friend a disapproving purse of his lips.

'You could, you know, just ask her out,’ he says in a bored tone, shifting his books into his backpack.

'Nah, man,’ Chanyeol starts, shoving his hands in his pockets in frustration. 'She’s in like… four college classes. What would she want with me?’

'Are you or are you not Playboy Park,’ Baekyun’s counters with a lewd raise of his brows.

'Ugh. You know I hate that nickname,’ he says with an anxious rub of his hand through the hair at the base of his neck. 'It was a JOKE from MIDDLE SCHOOL. I can’t believe it stuck.’

A flush comes to his cheeks thinking about it, but also a satisfied grin. He doesn’t care about landing any girls here, really. There’s only one he’s obsessed with. Only one who feels worthy of his pursuit. And just his luck, it’s the only girl who seems to be immune to his charms.

He’s so in his thoughts he doesn’t notice the bottle almost slipping from his pinky finger. He chuckles and does his best to keep the six drinks in his hands aligned. With a laugh he reaches the table and sets them down. 

He lifts his eyes to pass them out and stops when they land on you.

Here. Now. Again. Not in his memories or from across a large expanse of mall. 

But here, close enough for him to touch.

He freezes in place, hungrily taking in the cut of your dress, the way your chest moves, the way your eyes widen in shock at seeing him. The pictures he saved of you didn’t do you justice. They could never capture way the very air around you seems to hum with a completely different frequency from the rest of the world.

Before he can even think of saying anything, of somehow trying to broach the years between you, you’re pulling your friend onto the dance floor. And a second later you’re gone, as if you really are a phantom that’s been haunting him.

Finally he moves, grabbing a beer and slumping back against the plush seat of the booth. Blessedly, the song playing is popular and everyone but him gets dragged onto the dance floor, leaving him alone to stew.

For once in his life he doesn’t even hear the music, and the realization of that is the tipping point that makes his brain start working.

He’d thought about going over to the jewelry store, day after day, since he saw you. But what could he say? I still love you and I never stopped? Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life?

No, he didn’t trust himself around you. He never held back. His thoughts and words always flowed out unchecked around you, and he owed it to you to not bring up the past.

So he decided to let fate take its course and apparently today is the anointed day the two of you are brought back together. He takes a long drag of his beer and resumes his watching of the crowd with a scowl. Eventually Baekhyun breaks away and comes to join him with a loud slap on his knee. 

‘So do you want to know or not?’ he asks in a raised voice, his smile wide with energy and alcohol.

‘Know what?’ Chanyeol answers with a frown.

‘All about your love,’ he says plainly, pointing a finger to where you’re dancing with Yixing and his employee from the chocolate shop.

‘I know Soo’s seen her. Hitch, too probably. But I can’t bring myself to ask them. She must hate me,’ Chanyeol groans, looking away.

‘No,’ Baekhyun says, surprisingly firm, making Chanyeol look at him in shock. ‘I’d say she feels every emotion under the sun about you. Except that one.’

He sighs and runs a frustrated hand through his hair. ‘Fine. I’m a masochist, apparently. Tell me.’

‘She’s single. Moved back here cause her dad’s sick. He’s doing fine though,’ Baekhyun says reassuringly, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder to stop him from leaping out of the seat at hearing your father wasn’t okay. ‘You know she’s working at the jewelry shop. And she seems… sad, not angry. Trying to move on. At least that’s how it felt when I said hello.’

‘So, what are you going to do?’ Baekhyun asks, taking another drink.

‘What do you mean?’ Chanyeol replies, his eyebrows pulling together.

‘Dude, the entire state of Washington knows you’re still in love with her,’ his friend laughs before giving him a sympathetic look.

‘It’s not my place,’ he answers with a shake of his head, unable to stop himself from finding you on the dance floor again like a homing beacon. You haven’t looked his way once, and he tries not to be disappointed by it.

‘Look, everyone knows you belong together. I know why you did what you did, though I still think it’s the stupidest decision you’ve ever made,’ Baekhyun says with a teasing tug of his lips. 'But. And here’s the key piece so listen up. But, she’s single. Fate, destiny, whatever, brought her back. That’s gotta be some kind of sign my friend.’

Chanyeol doesn’t respond, looking down at his beer as if it holds all the answers in the universe. Baekhyun claps him on the shoulder, draining his beer and setting it on the table.

'I trust you’ll figure it out my friend,’ he says reassuringly before walking back to where everyone is dancing.

He’s powerless against the memory of another night that pulls at him; Halloween, junior year.

It had taken him weeks to work his way into your life. Talking together at lunch. Trying to keep cool the few times you’d agreed to play video games in Baekhyun’s basement with them. He managed to be the one to drive you home a few times when it had thundered, saying why take the bus when he had a car right here?

You seemed happy around him, but he couldn’t tell if you liked him or not. Finally, a week before the party at Baekhyun’s for Halloween, he got up his courage. 

On one such storming Monday after school, while you were flipping through his CD case as he pulled out of the school’s parking lot.

'Do you want to go to Baekhyun’s Halloween party with me?’ he’d said in a rush, his eyes fixed on the road, unable to look at you if you tell him you don’t feel the same way about him.

'You mean like, drive together?’ you’d replied distractedly, debating between two Rolling Stones CDs.

'No. I mean like, together,’ he’d answered plainly, finally turning to look at you as he pulled up to a stop light.

When you met his eyes he saw confusion and desire warring there, a beautiful pout coming to your lips. 'Like… a date?’ you’d whispered, your eyes dropping to his chest.

'Yes,’ he’d said with a giddy laugh. 'Exactly like a date.’

'Oh,’ was the only thing you said, brushing your hair back, pleasure and surprise turning your cheeks pink.

'So…?’ he said quietly, still staring at you hopefully.

'You like me like that?’ you’d asked, perplexed.

He barked out a laugh. 'Yes, Y/N. I like you like that. I like you in every way,’ he’d said softly, cautiously reaching out his hand to twine it with yours where it rested on your knee.

When you looked back up to meet his eyes your smile had turned radiant, a glow coming to your features that made his entire being melt.

'Well that’s good, cause I like you in every way too. I’d love to go with you to Baekhyun’s,’ you’d said, folding your fingers against his and squeezing.

He almost leaned down to kiss you, right then and there. But the light had apparently turned green several seconds ago and a honk from behind him surprises him into action.

He settled for lifting your hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the soft skin on the back of your hand, before driving off.

He spends the rest of the night in a cloud of dissatisfaction, moping. People try to talk to him, but eventually work their way onto someone in a better mood. Finally, when he returns from the bathroom hours later he notices your coat and purse are gone.

With a sigh, he grabs his coat and heads to the bar to pay his tab. Day one down, he thinks to himself with a dark chuckle.

March 7th, 1997

When Baekhyun walks into the jewelry store on a Friday afternoon, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, the laugh is out of your mouth before you can stop it.

‘What?’ he pouts, adjusting his tie.

‘I know you and Hitch have normal jobs now during the day, but it’s still an odd sight to see,’ you reply with a smirk.

Internally you try to reconcile the idea of your old friend, who you once saw skinny dip while wearing a pink inflatable unicorn floatie, sitting in meetings and being professional.

‘I can pretend to be an adult now and then Y/N,’ he says with a grin, walking over to dramatically lean on the counter. ‘Now, what are you doing tomorrow night?’

‘Why, are you asking me out?’ you counter and he barks out a laugh.

‘I missed you, my friend,’ he says with surprising softness.

Though you’ve been hanging out with Hitchcock again, and even had lunch once with Kyungsoo, you haven’t run into your loudest friend since the night at the club.

Hitchcock always felt like your friend, Kyungsoo a true neutral party; but Baekhyun and Chanyeol were inseparable. Two people cut from the same mold. It felt like forbidden territory to reach out to him, even though he was so friendly at the club.

‘I missed you too,’ you say, and you mean it.

Countless times over the years you’d heard a stupid joke and wanted to call him up to laugh about it; but you always thought better of it. 

You wished you could have had him beside you when you watched Pulp Fiction so you could hear his thoughts. 

And there were dozens of times you’d been at college parties and wished he was with you to liven things up.

‘I’m having a party tomorrow night and I want you to come,’ he says, leaning forward and giving you a mock serious face, looking so stern that you crack up laughing.

‘But… Baek, Chanyeol will be there, won’t he?’ you say softly once you can breathe again.

‘I imagine so, seeing as how he never passes up an opportunity to kick my ass at Mario Kart,’ he replies, looking at his watch.

‘But…’ you start, your voice fading as you look down.

‘Look my friend, I love you and Chanyeol. I would love to have both of you in our circle, there’s always a place for you with us,’ he says and from the lack of joking in his voice you know he means it.

‘What happened is between you two,’ he continues, sincerity in his eyes. ‘But I don’t want you to keep yourself from being with your friends just because of Chan. I think you’re tougher than that,’ he says with a reassuring smile that you easily return.

‘If you don’t want to be around him, I’ll understand that of course. I will,’ he pauses to sigh dramatically, ‘do my very best not to meddle.’ You laugh and give him a sassy look. ‘Okay fine, I probably will. But anyways, the choice is yours. We’re all here for you too, don’t forget that, okay?’

‘All right, I’ll keep that in mind,’ you say, touched.

He gives you a wink and starts walking toward the door. ‘I better get to my closing shift at the theater, but I’ll see you around.’ You nod and he turns.

You don’t know what makes you do it, but you call out to him. ‘Baekhyun, wait.’ He turns and gives you a curious look. ‘What time is the party?’

‘There she is,’ he answers with a grin, giving your an air high five. ‘It’s at eight. I’m sure Hitch can grab you on her way over. I’ll see you there my friend!’ he calls before dashing off down the mall.

March 8th, 1997

Against all odds, you feel fine at the party. Hitchcock and your friend from the chocolate store stay close by, and you play beer pong with Yixing at Baekhyun’s wide dining table.

You laugh and high five Yixing as you land yet another ball in the opposing team’s cup. Hitchcock groans and picks up the cup to drink. The alcohol has finally hit your blood and you’re feeling amazing.

A sudden presence to your left makes you realize why you’re feeling so comfortable; because Chanyeol was closing and only arrived now. He hovers nearby, filling his cup with a drink, his eyes darting back and forth to you.

‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Yixing asks, noticing Chanyeol, while Hitchcock takes her aim.

Chanyeol comes over with his full cup and they do a dramatic high five and hug. ‘Take over for me, will you? I have to go to the bathroom,’ Yixing says, pointing to the game.

Both you and Chanyeol open your mouths to say something and Yixing smacks himself on the forehead. ‘Sorry, you didn’t get to properly meet Y/N yet, did you?’

He motions between you. ‘Y/N this is Chanyeol, he works at the pizza place with Soo.’

‘I -’ you start, looking down for a second. ‘I know.’ Yixing’s brows draw together in adorable confusion.

‘We actually went to high school together,’ Chanyeol supplies, the sound of his voice invading your body.

The cadence fills holes in you that you didn’t even know were empty, only capable of being reached by him. Longing, thick and sharp, fills your throat, choking you with emotion. You curse yourself for being so affected by him.

Yixing looks pleasantly surprised. ‘Oh awesome! You guys will be great then,’ he says with a smack on Chanyeol’s shoulder, walking off to the bathroom oblivious of the thick tension in the air.

Chanyeol moves closer, awkwardly coming to stand a few inches to your left at the table. He sticks a hand in his pocket, his mouth pulling into a tight line as he attempts a smile.

You should look away, you tell yourself. But he hasn’t turned away either.

It’s impossible to describe what being near him after so long does to you. Your hands ache to touch him, anywhere. It’s like a light has suddenly turned on in the darkness, your world flooding into color and brightness once again in his presence.

He seems to be feeling the same sort of shock, his eyes taking in every detail of you as if you’re the holy grail he’s been searching for his entire life.

You shouldn’t care, you remind yourself.

He broke this, not you, you remember, blinking and coming back to yourself.

He chose to stop loving you, he chose to walk away. You shutter your gaze, pulling your emotions back. Turning, you notice your friends watching you cautiously.

‘I think it’s our turn,’ you say dispassionately, grabbing a ping pong ball and handing it to him. ‘If you want to go.’

He swallows, moving back a step deferentially. ‘Right. Thanks.’ His expression morphs into a neutral one as he grabs the ball from you with a tight smile.

The rest of the game passes in three turns, with Chanyeol’s excellent aim. As soon as Yixing returns for the next game, Chanyeol swaps out to go play Mario Kart with Baekhyun, Minseok, and Junmyeon.

You allow yourself to be swept up into a card game with Hitchcock and some of the girls from Starlight clothing.

The next time you look over at Chanyeol a girl is sitting next to him on the couch, her hand on his shoulder. She’s thin, brunette, with a beautiful mural of tattoos gracing her forearm. Blood rises in your cheeks at the way she leans in close while he plays.

With an inhale you feel sixteen all over again, inferior, inadequate.

‘How on earth did she start going out with Playboy Park? What does she have that I don’t have?’ comes a nasally voice from the sink and you hear the door shut with a thump.

You suck in a breath of shock, you hand paused on the handle to come out of the stall. Instinctively you step back, your heart beating wildly in your chest when you realize they are talking about Chanyeol. And you. 

It’s only been two weeks since you started dating but you weren’t being subtle about it.

He presses you against your locker before your morning classes, kissing you with abandon. His hands are never off of you when you eat lunch together before you head off to the University for your afternoon classes. 

He doesn’t seem to care what anyone thinks, and you do your best to as well. Even if he feels twelve times out of your league.

‘God who knows. Maybe she’s paying him. Maybe she lets him fuck her for practice. Whatever the reason, it won’t last long,’ another voice answers confidently and you inhale like you’ve been punched in the gut.

A high pitched laugh erupts from one of the girls and you feel your eyes pricking with tears. It’s as if your worst fears have grown legs and become teenagers, cornering you in a bathroom.

When they finally leave you emerge and wash your hands, wiping away your tears and composing yourself.

You never told Chanyeol about them, or the similar whispered rumors you heard that fall.

A few times you’d let your guard down, talking to your new friend Hitchcock. She’d threatened to kill them, and she was so fiery and passionate you weren’t sure if she was joking. She’d known Chanyeol for years and reassured you that he wasn’t messing with you. He genuinely, wildly, was head over heels in love with you.

Eventually, the speculation and rumors died down.

Eventually you learned that you were his perfect match. His hands and his words and his love carefully built up your confidence. With him you learned you were desirable, you were strong, you were worthy. The longer he stayed the less fear and doubt gripped your heart and the less the opinions of others mattered.

You watch as he carefully removes the hand of the woman next to him with a nod of his head and a disinterested smile on his lips. You can’t help the pleasure that courses through you as she gets up with a huff and heads to the the kitchen.

His eyes meet yours and you look away quickly, hoping he didn’t see you watching.

You blindly stare at your cards. It took years, but you learned to be strong without him. To fill in your life with pleasures and accomplishments, travels and friends, to the point where you felt whole and complete within yourself.

Looking back to the artful mess of his black hair, his head once again turned to the game on the screen, you admit to yourself with a sigh the thing you fear the most; that no matter where you go or what you do, you’ll never be as happy as you were with him.

With a sigh you play your next hand, allowing yourself to be drawn back into the game.

April 26th, 1997

‘YESSSSS, who’s ready for Dicks?’ Baekhyun screams, smacking Hitchcock on the butt and earning himself a death glare.

Chastised, he crawls into the back seat after her. Your roommate turns to you with a confused and alarmed expression and you laugh.

‘Don’t worry, Dicks is a burger place. I promise we’re not up to anything debaucherous,’ you say reassuringly.

‘That’s what you think!’ Baekhyun cheers from the backseat.

Chanyeol laughs to himself, walking around to the driver’s side. You and your roommate stand there together, staring at the two empty seats. Baekhyun and Hitchcock instinctively piled into the back, as they always did, leaving the front seat open for you.

‘Want me to take it?’ she asks softly.

‘No, it’s fine. Better start getting used to it if we’re all going to hang out,’ you say to her in a low voice with a shrug.

Over the last two months you’ve cautiously begun hanging out with the group again. 

Vintage shopping with Hitchcock followed by long movie discussions and shakes at Denny’s. 

Sighing in annoyance with Kyungsoo as Baekhyun and Hitchcock intentionally chose the absolute worst movies possible at Blockbuster for movie night. 

Pub crawls in Capitol Hill and brunches the following morning to counteract the hangovers you all try to deny.

Your roommate squeezes your arm and gets in after Baekhyun. Once again you feel the drowning sensation of nostalgia as you climb into your old seat of Chanyeol’s Camaro. The CD case lands in your lap gently and you look up in surprise.

Chanyeol turns the key to start the car and then looks over at you, doing a double take. ‘Shit, sorry,’ he says, reaching to take the case back. ‘Habit.’ He shakes his head and frowns.

‘No, I can do it,’ you say, giving him a small smile.

He holds your gaze for a moment, confusion in his features. He nods, his lips tilting into a smile; a tentative, hopeful thing that worms its way into your heart.

A loud cough from the back makes you both move.

Chanyeol puts his car in reverse and backs out, you zip open the case to select a CD. As you flip the pages your mind wanders down dozens of roads. Each one holds a memory of a time you spent together.

With a sigh you trace over the worn Temptations CD and see the first time he kissed you, right here in the front seat after pulling up to your house after Baekhyun’s Halloween party. You grit your teeth against thinking about the way the smooth sounds had wrapped around you as the two of you fogged up the windows of his car and the laughter you’d shared while smudging the make up from your matching Beetlejuice costumes.

Flipping a page you see his favorite Beatles album that you listened to on repeat over Spring break senior year. Closing your eyes you remember driving along the highway under a rare blue Western Washington sky, Baekhyun singing along horribly off key in the back; Chanyeol’s hand on your thigh, his fingers interlaced with yours.

There’s nothing safe. Every CD is a map to a destination that no longer exists. A memory of a past that no longer has a future.

Or, you think, watching the way he palms the wheel to turn onto the main road, a future that looks very different than you once imagined it to.

Your eyes widen slightly in relief, landing on the No Doubt album that came out a few months ago.

This, you have no history with. This, is safe, and you pop it in the player with a sigh.

He turns the volume up on the stereo as Gwen Stefani’s voice fills the car. Instinctively his hand reaches for your knee. He checks the motion quickly, drawing it back to the wheel. Thankfully you’re looking out the window at the buildings that pass and don’t notice.

Inside, he aches. He longs for the familiarity he used to have with your body. The way he knew every line of your palm with the same detail that he knows his own.

Once, there was almost no separation between you. You shared everything, blending into a seamless unit. Every thought and opinion, every story from childhood was shared, every hope for the future.

With a soft groan he remembers that you are no longer his to touch, to know. But maybe, he thinks with another glance over at you, maybe you can become friends again.

He decides to choose neutral territory, or as neutral as possible between you two.

‘So, how’s your dad doing these days?’ he asks softly.

You turn and look at him, brushing your hair behind your ear with a smile. ‘He’s really good, thanks for asking. At his age pneumonia can be brutal, so I’m thrilled he’s recovered.’

‘Good, I’m glad to hear it. He was always a fighter,’ he replies, remembering with a laugh the ringer that your father put him through.

Chanyeol was well and thoroughly sussed out by him. He grins remembering the endless questions, your father’s stern expression as he sat across from Chanyeol in your living room.

He wanted to know everything. What his intentions were. If he appreciated you fully. If he would treat you right.

He didn’t make any decisions in one night, a trait Chanyeol learned you got from your father. All he said that night was ‘We’ll see how it goes.’

It took weeks, but finally your father relented and conceded that he was worthy of you.

He and his band had won several local competitions by that point, but still the greatest triumph of his life was being invited to Thanksgiving dinner at your house by your father.

With a heavy clap of his hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder he’d called him ‘son’ for the first time before cutting the turkey. To anyone else it would seem to be an affectionate nickname for a young man, but all three of you knew what it truly meant.

‘He’s a fighter is indeed,’ you agree with a laugh, no doubt remembering the same thing, a warmth in your eyes when you meet his.

April 29th, 1997

He wanders into KMS music, tilting the collar of his coat back down, emerging out of the rain. Shaking his hair out he heads to the LPs along the back wall. Minseok gives him a nod from the register where he’s showing Alec how to do something.

Aside from Barada Pizza, this is his favorite store. CDs are rapidly taking up more and more of Tower Records, but Minseok is still holding an even mix. 

Another point in KMS’ favor is the Minseok also buys used LPs, cassettes, and CDs from the public. The new acquisitions always goes out Tuesday mornings and Chanyeol does his best to be here as early as possible.

He pushes up the sleeves of his jacket and gets lost in the new arrivals.

In no time he has a stack next to him. A nice pressing of Dark Side of the Moon. The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, the jacket in terrible shape, but the disc doesn’t have a scratch on it. A decent Etta James At Last! he knows you’d love.

He spots a pristine copy of Soul Provider and picks it up with a grin. He thinks about getting it for his mother, who loves Michael Bolton.

But after a beat he puts it back with a frown. It’s been years since he stopped seeking his parents approval, but the instinct and desire will never fade, he acknowledges sadly.

No matter how hard he tried, they always gave their full attention to his older brother, the star quarterback for the O’Dea football team. They hung their hopes on a college scholarship. 

No matter how many times he asked, naively hopeful, they never came to his gigs, or to see him busk. They banged on his walls, demanding he turn his radio down, no matter how quiet it was. Criticized the way he saved up money to buy his Fender.

He tortured himself for years, trying to keep excellent grades, to be on the bowling team, to fill his hours with ‘college worthy extracurriculars.’ To fold himself into someone that would win their approval.

But nothing changed the fact that there was a favorite child, and it wasn’t him.

Thankfully, Baekhyun’s mother basically adopted him, letting him play in her garage. He spent most of his time over there and eventually he stopped caring about anything but music and his friends. He quit the bowling team, dropped his extracurriculars, switched to regular classes, and was happier for it.

He kept you far away from the toxicity of his home life, and mentioned you as little as possible. All his parents asked about were your grades, impressed always by your accomplishments.

'You’ll never be good enough for her,’ his father had said offhandedly one night at dinner, in early spring his senior year. ‘She’s going places, and you’ll just hold her back.’

The words wormed their way into his bone marrow and never left. They ate away at him for days until he realized what he had to do and ended things. He knew you’d be happier with someone else, someone who had big dreams beyond a studio apartment and a place to play his music.

He regretted letting you go every single second since that day, but seeing how much you grew at college and in Georgia he feels proud that he was willing to sacrifice everything for the woman he loved.

Loves, he thinks with a frown, blindly flipping through more records.

These days he keeps his distance from his family. He moved out two weeks after graduation into an apartment with Baekhyun and later into one with Kyungsoo when they started the business. Since then the most he sees his parents are the requisite unavoidable major holidays.

With a sigh he looks around. His body jerks in surprise when he sees you, chatting with Minseok at the counter. He turns more, stepping over so he’s more hidden behind a listening station column. Minseok walks you over to the wall of LPs by the door, talking as he flips through a few.

You don’t see him, tucked away in the back as he is, and he relishes the opportunity to observe you freely.

He always thought it was utter nonsense that you didn’t feel beautiful or strong or talented. How could you not see how incredible you are and how lucky he was to be with you? For some wild reason you felt the same way about him.

He remembers the way you held his head in your lap, stroking your fingers through his hair, whispering reassurances after a nasty fight with his family. The way you came to every concert and performance you could, cheering him on from the front row. How you always reminded him you loved him and that he was worthy of all the good things in the world.

You were his light in the darkness. His muse. His everything, he thinks, unable to look away from the curve of your cheek as you talk with Minseok.

Unfortunately, as if drawn by his attention, Minseok looks over a beat later. His eyebrows raise in delight.

‘Chan, you’re a fan of Prince. What did you think of this album? I need a second opinion,’ Minseok says, waving him over.

He feels the tips of his ears go red. He picks up his small stack of records clumsily, tucking them under his arm and making his way to stand next to Minseok.

His friend keeps talking about the album in his hands, Emancipation, but Chanyeol doesn’t hear. And given the way you’re watching him, he doesn’t think you’re hearing Minseok either.

‘I’m sure you’ve heard Purple Rain, but if you haven’t, that’s what I’d recommend,’ Minseok says abruptly, leaning forward to grab a shrink wrapped copy and handing it to you.

Alec calls Minseok over to the registers and gives you both a nod of apology before leaving. The two of you stand there, only separated by a few feet, but given the history you both have with the album in your hands it might as well be miles. 

‘Someday we’ll have our own place,’ he’d said softly, pressing a kiss to your hair. ‘We’ll have our own fancy record player. A place for you to work. A big cozy bed with a view of the water.’

‘That sounds perfect,’ you’d replied, lifting a hand and laying it along his arm on your waist while you flipped through records with the other. ‘What do you want to listen to first? How should we christen our future fancy apartment?’

‘Hmmm,’ he’d said, the sound vibrating through you as his head rested atop yours. ‘This one,’ he said, pulling out the Prince album and putting it in your hand.

With a grin you’d nodded, holding onto the album tightly and leaning your head to the side so you could find his lips with yours.

In front of him you carefully put the album back. ‘I should get back,’ you say, retreating from him with a sad smile.

He watches you go, his shoulders falling. He pulls out his stack of records and walks to the register. Normally he can spend hours here browsing, but today he’s had as much as he can stand.

July 2nd, 1997

When you walk into Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s apartment for the party you’re overcome with a wave of nostalgia. The Wayne’s World poster on the wall. The Nintendo on the floor with games surrounding it. Chanyeol’s prized Fender on a rack on the wall.

You’ve been coping the past few weeks. Carrying on as best you can through pool at Damon’s downtown, a day trip to Leavenworth, and a screening of The Fifth Element. 

The entire time you wished you could hear Chanyeol’s thoughts and at the diner afterwards you were the last two there, discussing until the wee hours of the morning.

It almost feels doable, but just when you think you can manage being friends with your ex, you had to finally visit his apartment for a party. And being here, in his space, it’s as if all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. The want you feel for him threatens to level you.

‘You okay, babe?’ your roommate asks from behind you, resting her head on your shoulder.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘Let’s go get a drink,’ she says, slipping her hand into yours and pulling you along into the kitchen. You give her a grateful smile and she winks and squeezes your hand.

If it wasn’t for friends like her who picked you up and helped hold together the fragile pieces of you during Freshman year of college, you’re not sure where you’d be now. Starting over in a new city was terrifying, and even though it made you stronger, you couldn’t have done it without the small group of friends you made there.

In the kitchen Baekhyun is enthusiastically explaining something to a bored looking Jongin. His eyes light up seeing you there.

‘Frienddddd,’ Baekhyun calls and pulls you into a sloppy hug. You chuckle and steady yourself with a hand on the counter.

‘Whoa there,’ Jongin says in a steady voice, easing Baekhyun’s arm off you and pulling you away. You give him a nod of thanks.

Baekhyun launches into an excited tale about a customer who’d somehow managed to sneak an entire watermelon into the movie theater last night. Your roommate rolls her eyes and grabs a drink, leaning her hip against the counter.

‘Can I grab you a drink?’ Jongin asks politely, motioning a hand to the bevy of alcohol on the counter. His gentle voice is at odds with the bold fashion he’s wearing and is a welcome change after the loudness of Baekhyun.

‘Sure, thanks,’ you answer and give him an appraising look while he pours.

For weeks Hitchcock has been trying to get you to find someone to date, softly encouraging you to get back out there.

She thought you might like Sehun, who works at Starlight clothing, but he immediately struck you as not your type and just a friend. The same with her co-worker from the theater, Mark. 

You both laughed when she suggested the elusive DJ slash computer repairman Jongdae. No one knew what his story was, but clearly he isn’t the dating type.

Her latest suggestion is Jongin, who teaches dance at the KOKO exercise studio next to the theater. He’s got kind eyes, incredible dance moves, and you can’t deny he’s attractive.

You want to try and move on, desperately hoping that it will make being around Chanyeol bearable, so you gamely take the drink he makes and stand in the kitchen, asking him about a street dance performance showcase the studio is hosting next week. He’s delighted to talk about it, joy filling his features as he explains it to you in his straightforward way.

You finally see Chanyeol when he comes into the kitchen rubbing his stomach and heading for the array of snacks. He smiles, taking a step toward you. Jongin doesn’t notice, however, as he’s tilted towards you to be heard over the music.

Before you can say anything Chanyeol’s expression drops at seeing how close the two of you are. He dips back out of the room with a shake of his head. A pit forms in your stomach and suddenly you’re angry.

What right does he have to look hurt? He doesn’t get a say in who you talk to or who you’re interested in anymore, you remind yourself, taking a long swallow of your drink.

More out of stubbornness than interest, you force yourself to keep talking to Jongin. You finish your drink, and another, letting yourself get lost for once. You allow yourself to escape into the alcohol, doing your best to numb your heart.

The music cuts off in the living room and you hear Baekhyun enthusiastically announce that it’s truth or dare time.

With mixed cheers and groans everyone files into the living room to find a place to sit. You and Jongin are the last ones in and you end up pressed together onto a couch with three other people. His arm is forced around your shoulder to all fit in and he apologizes with a soft laugh.

Things start off as they always do, with Baekhyun. He challenges Hitchcock to dance to ‘Baby Got Back.’ Sehun is forced to tell the most embarrassing thing he’d been caught doing by his parents. Your roommate has to do a disgusting-looking shot of Sehun’s creation. Chanyeol has to kiss Kyungsoo’s head and somehow manages to not die.

When it’s his turn Chanyeol he gives you a dark smile, so unlike his normal effervescence, on his face as he looks between you and Jongin. Internally you curse yourself - for being here, for indulging in the game, for whatever ridiculous thing he’s going to challenge you to.

‘Y/N, truth or dare?’ he asks in a teasing voice. You realize abruptly that he’s drunk, or at least, rapidly approaching it. His grin is just a bit too loose, his eyes slightly unfocused.

You debate with yourself for a moment.

Knowing him as well as you do, or at least – as well as you used to - he usually goes for something embarrassing. Run down the block naked. Call your English teacher and sing the Star Spangled Banner. Dance to Right Said Fred’s ‘I’m Too Sexy’ in front of everyone.

You shake your head to yourself, best to stick with the safer option.

‘Truth,’ you reply, leveling your gaze at him.

He gives you a wicked grin, the corner of his mouth tilting up dangerously.

Fuck, wrong choice, you think.

But the words are out, the choice is made; the only thing left to do is brace yourself. As he draws out asking you a question the side conversations in the group die off, and you can feel the weight of everyone’s attention as the two of you face off.

‘Y/N, be honest – have you ever had anyone as good as me?’ he asks, slurring slightly.

His shit-eating grin leaves no room for interpretation. Several people in the circle oooooh. Everyone knows he’s asking about his abilities in the bedroom.

Baekhyun’s jaw drops open. ‘Jesus, man. Take it easy.’

The question is like a punch in the gut, and even though you’re opposed to violence you suddenly want to smack that smug look right off his face. Either that or you want to start sobbing, but anger feels like safer ground.

After months of back and forth, of diving into the past with both hands and feeling like you’re drowning in his presence, this is too much. Giving him your haughtiest glare you scoff and stand up. 

Folding your arms across your chest you stare down at him.

‘Fuck you, Chanyeol,’ you say, voice quaking with fury.

Spinning on your heel you turn and climb over Hitchcock and Sehun’s limbs and head for the door.

You hear several people start talking back in the living room, but in your rush to leave you don’t pay them any attention. When your hand is on the handle of the front door you hear a rush of footsteps approaching you.

A hand reaches out and keeps the door from opening. ‘Y/N, please, wait. I’m sorry,’ Chanyeol says, removing his hand from the door and resting it on your shoulder.

‘No Chanyeol. No one’s ever been as good as you,’ you hiss out vindictively, turning so his hand is knocked off your shoulder.

You’re infuriated that he followed you, that he couldn’t let you go without pushing you further.

‘Is that what you want to hear? No one’s ever kissed me like you did, ever touched me like you did, ever made me come as hard as you did. Happy?’

As much as it might kill you to admit it, you’re telling the truth. No one made much of an impression in the years since, compared to him.

A few nice, but not nice enough boys in college. Their unskilled tongues and hands no match for his. 

Six months last year with a very attractive Southern painter that eventually you got bored with, feeling like a bitch for holding him to a standard you know no one could ever meet.

You had your perfect match, and no one else would ever come close. You can admit that standing across from him in his hallway, even though the truth feels like an atom bomb going off underneath your skin.

‘No, I’m not happy,’ he says with a groan, dragging his hand across his face. ‘How am I supposed to cope with the fact that you’ve been other people?’

‘That’s not my problem, Chanyeol. Not anymore,’ you start, watching with uncharacteristic schadenfreude as his face falls in misery.

‘You made sure of that,’ you say with a last look at him. You turn and pull open the door with much more force than necessary and stride out into the night.

He watches you leave, regret souring the liquid in his stomach. ‘Fuck, that could have gone better,’ he curses and drops his head into his hands, leaning back against the wall.

Moments later Minseok comes out into the hall and joins Chanyeol against the wall.

‘So… what the hell was that?’ he asks bluntly, watching his friend.

Chanyeol drops his head back against the wall and lets out a groan. ‘That was me, digging myself further into a hole I started five years ago,’ he says dejectedly.

When he looks over Minseok pats him on the shoulder consolingly and gestures for him to continue. He slides down to sit on the floor and chugs the last of his beer. Minseok carefully bends to sit beside him, waiting.

‘God, I just lost it tonight, seeing Jongin’s arm around her. Like I have any right to dictate who she dates,’ he mutters.

‘You guys were together, right?’ Minseok asks. ‘What happened? I heard you broke up with her.’

‘We met in high school, junior year. She was some art prodigy genius and she came to our school because she could take classes at U Dub too. Kyungsoo met her in an AP Calc class and she became friends with all of us,’ he starts, trying to get through the story at rapid speed.

‘She understood me and loved me like no one else ever has. Fuck, we were perfect together,’ he says with a grunt, wanting to hit something.

The intervening years flash through his mind, memories of times he’d looked up, wanting to celebrate with you, only to remember in a sickening rush that you’re not there. All the times he woke up alone, desperate for your body against his. The way he was never as happy as he was when he was with you.

All of a sudden he wants to throw up.

‘Why’d you break up with her then, you idiot?’ Minseok asks with a confused expression, his eyebrow quirking up.

He laughs bitterly. ‘Let me vomit real quick and I’ll tell you the story.’

You clench your fists over and over, as if the motion will distract you from the white hot anger roiling in your gut. Your roommate finds you two blocks away, leaning against the car. She slips her arm around your shoulders without pause and you lean your face into her shoulder.

‘Let’s get you home,’ she says, rubbing your arm. You nod, trying to even your breathing as you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Once you’re inside she wisely turns the radio off and begins the drive home.

‘Do you… want to talk about it?’ she starts cautiously.

‘No. I just…’ you start, looking out the window at the summer rain falling over the Victorian houses of Capital Hill that pass by. You heave a deep sigh. ‘I thought things might have been different. That maybe he and I could clear away the past and be friends. I guess not.’

‘Anyways,’ you continue, swiping at your eyes and forcing a smile onto your face. ‘Happier thoughts. What about you and Kyungsoo? You guys were sitting awfully close tonight. How’s the Summer Quest going?’

‘Hmmm. Let’s not talk about that either,’ she says with a laugh. ‘I’ll let you know when I figure it out. Why don’t we just declare this a boy free zone,’ she grins, motioning her hand between the two of you.

‘Except Leonardo DiCaprio, of course. I can’t wait for Titanic,’ she says with a laugh and a wink.

‘Oh, I am so down,’ you answer, grateful she doesn’t pry. ‘Leo is always allowed.’

‘Amen to that, sister,’ she yells dramatically.

August 1st, 1997

‘Well, I personally think Live are underrated,’ Chanyeol says, laying on his side so he can argue with Minseok, flipping the corners out on his blanket.

The assembled group is spreading out on the flat expanse of grass. As part of some ‘Summer Adventure Quest’ Sunshine decided to take Kyungsoo on you’ve all gone stargazing.

No one owned a truck to sit in the back of, and there’s far too many of you to fit anyways. So you’ve settled for finding a wide open field in a state park off I-90 to watch the meteor shower.

The warm summer breeze, clear night sky. His friends around him, the hope of a good night. It unwinds something he didn’t know was coiled up tightly in his chest the past few weeks.

‘I know, I feel you,’ Minseok answers with a nod, pouring wine into his girlfriend’s cup. ‘Though, Nirvana and Pearl Jam are dominating my sales and that’s obviously great. Keeps me in business, could never knock them.’

‘It’s great but it’s also disheartening, I wish more people would give Live a shot, you know? I just worry that Spice World is always going to have more listeners than albums like Secret Samadhi,’ Chanyeol continues.

While they discuss, Chanyeol looks over to you. He sighs, noticing you’ve placed yourself as far from him as possible. Even after he apologized the next day for his rude behavior at the party, you’re still keeping your distance.

You and Hitchcock and Yixing’s girlfriend are laying with your heads together on a distant blanket. He tried to get back the good vibe you shared before the party, but he fears it might be lost forever.

Minseok carries on talking about grunge and the takeover of pop. But all he can think about is 1993, a truly spectacular year for music, and the year you were at school and he spent bouncing around at community college, lost.

The following year Kyungsoo came to him with a purpose, something he could actually do, and they began working to save money to open the pizza parlor. But that first year of college all he did was sink into music and fight off depression as best he could.

He tried to keep up with playing music with his band, but without you his heart wasn’t in it. It’s only in the last two years that he’s even gotten back into playing gigs and writing songs.

Time slows down as he watches your mouth move, your hands animated as you point out various constellations. He can’t even remember how many summer nights he spent on the wide expanse of your family’s backyard with you. Tangled up together on a blanket, you teaching him the names of constellations and him making up raunchier versions in between making out.

He can almost hear Kyungsoo’s voice in his head, telling him to simply ask. To say something. To see if there’s any possibility you would give him, and this, a second chance.

It drove him mad for years, the thought of ‘what might have been,’ the four saddest words in the English language, in his opinion. 

The number of times he wanted to call, to drive across the entire country to Georgia and beg you to take him back, was innumerable. He should have reached out sooner, he chastises himself

He takes another deep sip of his beer and tears his eyes away from you, allowing himself to be drawn back into conversation with Minseok and now Yixing.

Once again he lets thoughts of music soothe his soul. And once again he is resolved.

Last time it was a resolve he made by himself, even though it broke his heart, to let you go so that you could have a future without him.

This time, he knows in his bones that you’re better together. And he resolves to do anything he can to make that happen.

August 25th, 1997

The call comes on a Sunday afternoon during the lunch rush, as he’s playfully flirting with the elderly ladies of the Greater Seattle Bridge Club.

‘Sorry beautifuls, I have to take this,’ he says with a wink and reaches for the phone.

They wave and titter as they head off for their table. He answers and sticks the phone under his ear, tearing off and spindling an order slip, getting ready to take a phone order.

‘Barada Pizza, Chanyeol speaking. How can I help?’ he says in his usual cheerful voice.

‘Chan? It’s Y/N, is my roommate there?’ you ask in a distorted voice.

You sob into the phone a second later and he realizes that the distortion is due to tears. His blood turns to ice and he ducks away from the register, not even bothering to grab someone to cover it in his concern.

‘Baby, what is it? Tell me what’s wrong,’ he pleads, ducking into the back room, the term of endearment slipping from him without him noticing.

‘It’s my dad,’ you say, gasping in a breath. ‘He was out on a hike an he collapsed. He should be okay but, I just… I need someone here with me, I can’t do this by myself.’

‘Where are you? I’m coming now,’ he says in a voice that brooks no disagreement. He reaches into his locker for his coat, pulling the keys from the pocket and walking back out into the store.

You pause, clearly debating whether to insist that you talk to your roommate or letting him come to help. Eventually you let out a long breath.

‘Chan, I’m at Harborview, in the ER,’ you say in a ragged voice. ‘Can you please just let her come be with me?’

‘Okay,’ he answers with a sigh. ‘Fine. I’m sending her right now.’

‘Thank you, Chan,’ you say softly. ‘Thank you so much.’

You hang up and he clicks the phone off. When he finally looks up he notices that your roommate has jumped in to ring on the register. She turns to look at him with a perplexed expression, taking in his coat and keys and the expression of concern he knows he’s probably wearing.

‘Everything okay?’ she asks, spindling a ticket after making sure there aren’t any more customers.

‘No. Y/N’s father passed out on a hike. She’s at Harborview, can you go be with her now?’ he asks. ‘Do you have a car? You can take mine if you need to just, please hold her for me.’

Her eyes go wide at the news and she takes off her apron in a hurry and turns to go to the back. ‘No, I have a car. Don’t worry, I’ve got her,’ she says and gives him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.

She heads into the back and reappears a moment later with her purse and coat. The look she gives him lets him know that she’s fully aware of both how badly he wants to go to you, and how much he cares for you to not force you to let him to be the one to comfort you.

‘It’s just off James, on 9th. You can’t miss it,’ he says as she runs off, nodding.

He spends the rest of the day fretting, pacing back and forth, staring at the phone. He debates calling, going to the hospital after work; doing anything but just sitting and waiting.

The phone rings again around four as he’s passing off an update on a fridge repair to Kyungsoo. This time it’s your roommate.

‘How is he? How is she?’ he says in a rush.

‘They’re both fine. We’re back at her dad’s house now. It was just dehydration and he fainted. They gave him some fluids and some other medical things I didn’t catch. But he’s okay, he’s resting and we’re just hanging out here,’ she says in a quiet voice and he knows she’s probably whispering so you don’t hear.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ he says, trying to keep the keening edge out of his voice.

There’s a pause. ‘I… hmm. Okay, Chanyeol. You know I like you. You’re a good boss and a good friend, despite some of the absolutely terrible decisions you’ve made,’ she says with a huff of a laugh.

‘So, I’m going to say something, but I just want you to know I’m going to kill you if you hurt my friend again,’ she says in a stern voice.

He laughs out loud, half in relief and half because he can imagine your roommate’s attempted serious face as she said all that.

‘I swear on my life I will never hurt her again,’ he says steadily. He closes his eyes, debating whether to say what he’s about to say.

Finally he just says the truth, plainly. ‘I love her, more than anything.’

She lets out a soft laugh. ‘That’s what I thought. All right, loverboy. Her dad doesn’t have too much healthy food in the house, or food in general here. So, if you wanted to pick up food and bring it over for dinner… that might be nice.’

‘Thank you, Sunshine,’ he says with a grin. ‘For trusting me.’

‘Just don’t fuck it up, okay? She’s like a sister to me,’ she says tartly and he assures her he won’t before hanging up the phone.

‘You mind if I head out an hour early?’ Chanyeol says to Kyungsoo, coming into the backroom and once again grabbing his coat and keys.

Kyungsoo puts down the paperwork in his hands and raises an eyebrow. ‘Sure, everything okay?’

‘Y/N’s dad was in the hospital today. He’s all right now but Sunshine said it might be a good idea if I bring over dinner,’ he says, warmth coming to his cheeks as he says it.

‘Are you going over there as a concerned friend?’ Kyungsoo says plainly. ‘Or as someone hoping to be something more?’

‘The latter,’ Chanyeol replies with equal frankness.

‘Good,’ Kyungsoo counters and Chanyeol’s mouth opens in shock. ‘I’m serious. It’s been frustrating watching the two of you orbit each other for months. You belong together. So don’t mess it up a second time, okay?’

Chanyeol purses his lips. ‘Why does everyone keep saying that?’ he says, pursing his lips. At Kyungsoo’s stare he throws up his hands. ‘All right, all right. I know why. Anyways, thanks man. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He waits at the door with bags in his hand, bouncing his leg nervously. You open the door and he wants to drop the bags of food and pull you into his arms. You look exhausted, especially with the shock on your face at seeing him standing there.

‘Chanyeol? What…’ you start, looking down at the plethora of bags in his hands, the name of your father’s favorite seafood restaurant written on the brown paper.

‘I brought dinner,’ he says with a slight smile. ‘I can just drop it off though, I don’t have to stay. I figured with how busy you’ve been today you could all use some food.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ say, your eyes softening as you take him in. ‘Come on in, you can eat with us.’

‘Thanks,’ he says and follows you into the small kitchen, waving to your roommate on the couch where she’s watching TV. 

You follow and reach into one of the bags to start serving. He leans over slightly and says, ‘Don’t worry, I got it. I remember where everything is.’

Your brow furrows but you leave him be, heading back into the living room. He brings out four plates of food, handing two to you and one to your roommate. When you return from giving a plate to your father he’s still standing there, looking at the couch.

It’s the only seating in the small living room and your friend is at one end, her eyes glued to the screen while she watches the episode of Law and Order. With a shrug you sit down in the middle and incline your head to the space next to you. He joins, turning his attention to the screen as you do, and starts to eat.

After another few episodes he decides to do the dishes, waving off your attempts to help, picking up your roommates plate from the floor. She passed out against the arm of the couch shortly after she finished eating and you both laugh softly at her gentle snoring.

When he comes back you’re leaning against the back of the couch, your blinks coming slower and slower, your lids drooping. He’s torn, but eventually he decides he’s not going anywhere until you ask him to leave. He settles back into the couch and in minutes your head falls softly on his shoulder.

He turns and looks down at your sleeping face, feeling his entire body melt at the contact. Gently he reaches over for his jacket, laying it across you as best as he can without moving his shoulder.

For several minutes he lets himself get lost in the way your eyelashes fall on your cheeks, how you have a new scattering of faint freckles on your nose since the last time he was this close.

Eventually his breath deepens and his own eyes close, his head tilting to rest softly against yours.

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’

The male voice rouses him from sleep. It’s hardly dawn, the first faint streams of light coming through the blinds, and Chanyeol blinks. When he sees your father there he resists the urge to jolt, remembering that you’re still asleep next to him.

‘Are you okay, sir? Should you be standing?’ Chanyeol whispers, watching your father brace himself against the door frame. He’s older than Chanyeol remembers, naturally, but he’s lost none of his intensity.

‘I’m fine. Now get in the kitchen and tell me what you’re doing here, son,’ he says in a low grumble, walking off slowly to the kitchen without waiting to see if Chanyeol follows. 

Slowly, he eases your head off his shoulder and lays you down on the couch, adjusting his coat over you. With a deep breath he readies himself, walking into the kitchen to face your father. The door swishes shut behind him and your father motions him to sit in the seat across from the table.

‘Now, it’s been a long time since I saw you last,’ your father says, leveling a stare at Chanyeol. ‘You want to tell me what’s happened since then?’

He blanches. It’s not the ‘you hurt my daughter, get out’ response he expected or feels like he deserves, but then again your father did always surprise him.

‘I -’ he starts, looking down at his interlaced hands.

‘Just say it plainly son, you know there’s no bullshit allowed in this house,’ he says with a rumbling low laugh. 

Chanyeol’s mouth breaks into a grin and he lifts a hand to his eyes to rub the sleep from them. When he meets your father’s stare again he’s ready to tell the entire truth.

‘I didn’t feel worthy of her,’ he starts, finally, and begins to lay out the entire twisted mess of the last few years.

He talks until the sun has cleared the tops of the trees in your backyard, spilling golden light across the grass. He doesn’t hold back, every fear and misstep and inadequacy he lays bare. Eventually he finishes, looking down at the wood of the table and inhaling a deep breath.

When he releases it his shoulders feel as if they drop a mile, the weight of his errors and his worth passed off to an objective third party. He lifts his gaze and your father is rubbing his hand over his chin, deep in thought. With a nod to himself he drops his hand.

‘All right, son. I have one thing to say and then I have a question for you,’ he starts and Chanyeol nods, awaiting his fate. ‘I never talked about it because it wasn’t my place, but your parents should have treated you better.’

Emotion rises in his chest but he doesn’t look away from your father.

‘You loved them, but they never saw you for all the wonderful things that make you special. I know what your father said hurt, and I understand why you left like you did now, though I still wish you’d talked to someone about it beforehand and we could have saved a whole lot of trouble,’ he says and leans forward to pat Chanyeol on the arm.

‘But if you’re going to be in my baby’s life I need you to understand that you’re a good man. You made something of yourself. You love your music. And you loved my daughter with your whole heart, and that’s not nothing - to make the person you love most in the world happy. If that’s all you do for your whole life, then it’s a life well spent, you understand me?’

Chanyeol nods, his throat too thick to speak.

‘You’ve always been good enough for her. If you weren’t I’d never have let you into our family. I know there’s a whole lot of history between you two, and that’s your business. I see it in your eyes that you know where you went wrong and I believe you have the right intentions. So I just need to know one thing,’ he continues.

‘If you get her back are you going to be fool enough to let her go again?’ he asks plainly.

Finally, Chanyeol finds the ability to speak. ‘No, no I won’t. She’s all I ever wanted. I love her so much I can’t breathe. I want what I’ve wanted since I was eighteen; to marry her, build a life with her, and love her as long as I live.’

‘Well, all right then,’ your dad replies softly. ‘Now that that’s settled, want some coffee?’ 

Chanyeol looks up in disbelief, laughing quietly. ‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it,’ he repeats, walking over to get a cup from the cabinet. 

When he leaves, later that morning after saying goodbye to you, he feels a thousand times lighter that he did when he arrived.

Your father’s questions and the soft look on your face when you woke up and saw him both give him more hope than he’s had in ages. And this time, he’s not letting anything take it away.

August 28th, 1997

Hitchcock comes by just before closing time Thursday night with a grin on her face. ‘Guess what we’re doing tonight?’ she asks with a sassy waggle of her eyebrows.

You laugh as you straighten two necklaces that are tangled together. ‘What?’

‘Karaokeeeee!’ she says with a grin. ‘After closing, at the Rusty Spoon.’

'Oh lord,’ you say to yourself with a sigh. She’s already running off in the direction of the food court, no doubt to tell Chanyeol about the plan.

With a look around you, you try to reconcile the past few weeks. Chanyeol was so sweet the day your father passed out, but he was so harsh at truth or dare. He’s watched you the past few times you’ve passed each other in the mall with such… openness and hope in his face.

The mall’s been swamped with Labor Day sale preparations and you haven’t had a chance to talk to him again. Apparently Hitchcock wants to get everyone together for a good night before the insanity of sale weekend begins.

You walk across the parking lot later that night toward the delightfully aging Rusty Spoon feeling as if you’re walking to your own torture. An entire night listening to your ex’s low voice? 

Just perfect, you think with a wry grin.

When you walk in you find Hitchcock and Baek, who have secured the large table in the corner and are busy getting pitchers of beer. You shrug your coat off and slide into the booth, smoothing back your hair and gathering yourself.

Over the next half hour the rest of the gang shows up. Baekhyun is in the middle of a delightfully awful rendition of an ABBA song when Chanyeol finally walks in. Your traitorous heart melts all over again at the way his hair has poofed up after working by the hot ovens all day.

He nods and smiles to everyone around the table as he pulls up a chair, his smile widening as his attention lands on you. He looks at the filled seats on either side of you with a pout that tugs at your soul. With a shrug he turns to watch Baekhyun sing, his eyes crinkling as he enjoys the awful performance.

As the night goes on, he does indeed sing; classic rock duets with Hitchcock, a magnificently disjointed group attempt at 'Sweet Caroline’ with Minseok and Baekhyun. And towards the end of the night, ‘Your Song,’ by Elton John.

When you hear the opening cords of the song you stop mid-way back from the bar with another drink. Lifting your head you see he’s staring straight at you. Raw emotion is painted across his face as he starts to sing - need, regret, lust, sadness, love.

He knows what this song means to you. You listened to it every time you missed your mom, alternately slow dancing to it with him or crying with your head in his lap while Elton’s soothing voice, accompanied by Chanyeol’s low baritone, washed over you.

There’s a tornado of sensations coursing though your body and though you don’t physically move you feel as though you’re being swept off your center by a vicious tornado. You grip a nearby table for support as he sings, your eyes never leaving him.

All at once, you can’t do this. Being this near him and the intensity of feeling in your heart threatens to level you.

As swiftly as you can you foist your beer off on Sehun and grab your coat. You lean down to talk in Hitchcock’s ear, telling her you’re feeling sick and to let you know how much you owe so you can pay her back tomorrow. She furrows her brow and rests a hand on your shoulder, asking if you’re okay, her wise eyes darting to Chanyeol on the stage for a beat.

'I’m fine, I promise, I just… have to go,’ you say and she finally nods, releasing you with a sympathetic squeeze of your shoulder.

It takes all your strength to not look back at him as the song winds to a close, pushing your way through the thick Friday night crowd and pulling your coat on as if your world isn’t a confused mess.

Blessedly you emerge outside into the fresh air, drawing in a huge breath and walking towards your car with one goal: to keep yourself together. Crying isn’t your way, at least not publicly, and especially not around Chanyeol, not anymore.

You’re walking through the alley between buildings when you hear the footsteps behind you, frantic and fast. Instinct makes you turn, your hand on your keys and your eyes alert in case it’s an attacker. 

But no, it’s even worse, you think with a groan. It’s Chanyeol.

'Are you okay?’ he huffs out, drawing in a deep breath as he reaches you.

'I’m fine,’ you reply curtly, deciding to keep your words to a minimum to hide emotions swirling within you.

'I - Y/N, please,’ he starts.

'Please what?’ you say cautiously.

He takes a step forward and you lift a hand, torn between touching him and wanting to back up to get away from the warm leather of his coat you know still smells like his favorite cologne after waking up under it once again on Monday.

He settles it for you. With a step he reaches out and holds both of your elbows, leaning over you and closing his eyes at the contact.

'Can we please just - ’ he tries again, his fingers massaging the skin of your arms as his hands glide higher. 'Start over?’

He finally opens his eyes to meet yours. He sobers quickly, standing there in limbo, watching your face as if it holds the answer to every question he’s ever had.

You sway towards him, unable to resist his pull and the way your entire body and spirit seem to come alive the closer you are to him.

For a moment you consider it. Could it be that simple? To forget the past and begin again. God, you want to.

His lips are achingly close to yours, his eyes on yours, refusing to let you avoid him, and this, for any longer. You don’t know what he sees in your irises but a second later he smiles, reaching a hand up and burying it in your hair.

His lips hover over yours and you part yours in anticipation. Closing your eyes in a desperate attempt to regain your sanity, you forcibly remind yourself why your lips aren’t his to kiss anymore.

Your body is crying out to be in contact with his, betraying you. The memory of his lips on yours rises in you like a phantom, but your mind swiftly kicks in, flooding you with other memories.

The nights you spent in Hitchcock’s lap that summer, crying.

Going off to college in the fall, alone and heartbroken, but determined to be stronger; to not let anyone else hold your heart in their hands.

The painful process of forgetting him, and moving on.

You know the last is a lie, you’ll never be able to forget him. He’s in your blood and your bones. But the one thing you can do is save yourself, and not allow your heart to be ripped out once again.

You pull back with a jolt. He tilts toward you and you reach out both hands to his chest to keep him at bay. He whines, a sound of frustration and need that almost makes you cave. The hand that is buried in your hair hasn’t moved, and he’s still far too close for you to breath normally.

‘Please,’ you whisper, looking up into his eyes that are dark with passion.

‘Don’t,’ you say in a rush, stepping back, attempting to put more space between the two of you. ‘Don’t do this to me again. Damnit, Chanyeol, I was eighteen and you were my whole world. You hurt me when you left and I never even understood why you did it,’ you start, all the unspoken words pouring out of you in the night air.

‘All these years later, I can forgive you. We were young, maybe it was too much too fast. But I can’t do it again.’ He looks pained and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. ‘I survived you breaking my heart the first time. I put myself together once. I don’t think I’d survive it a second time,’ you say softly, looking up at him with wide, desperate eyes.

Though he stutters, attempting to find the words, he doesn’t move.

‘Please,’ you repeat your prayer, feeling far colder than you should for the summer night the further you get from him.

‘Okay, Y/N,’ he says, stepping back to give you more space, his eyes holding yours.

When you finally step away and turn to leave, he blessedly doesn’t follow. 

August 29th, 1997

The next day at lunch you have an unexpected visitor.

All morning you’ve been made of stone, all emotions feel as though they’ve been vacuumed out of you, leaving you empty. 

You could barely manage a smile for customers all morning, but you’re here, and you’re coping. And that, at least, is something.

You refused to cry over him anymore, though last night seemed like it lasted a million years; the hours between night and morning stretching on into an aching chasm without him.

And so, when Kyungsoo approaches you with a tilt of his head, you are exhausted and utterly devoid of energy after scanning the same page of your book for the twelfth time.

'Mind if I join you?’ he asks with a small smile, motioning to the chair next to you and holding two salads in his hands. 'You looked like you could use some food.’

Too tired to give him a reply you settled for just nodding. The two of you eat in silence. 

You always felt a sense of kinship Kyungsoo. Both of you were naturally reserved; both of you made daring and confident by your relationship with Chanyeol.

With a snort you remember the night Kyungsoo ran around the outside of the school in only his underwear on a dare from Chanyeol.

'What?’ Kyungsoo asks, looking up with a raise of his brow.

'Oh, nothing. I’m just remembering your one wild night,’ you reply, unable to keep your laughter in any longer.

He groans and drops his head into his hands. 'God, don’t remind me,’ he sighs ruefully. 'You know, your roommate is making me do all sorts of insane things this summer. Reminds me of someone else we both know.’

When you finally stop laughing he’s watching you with an open expression, as if inviting you to say more. The walls inside you slam closed and delight is wiped from your features.

'I’m not talking about him, Soo,’ you say with a frown, spearing some lettuce with much more intensity than necessary.

'We can, you know. Yes, he’s my one of my best friends and we own a business together. But I care about you too. Anything you say stays between us, I promise,’ he continues in his steady tone.

You sigh and relinquish your fork. 'I know, I just - I don’t know what he wants from me,’ you answer honestly. ‘It’s so much harder than I thought, being around him again.’

'Why don’t you ask him?’ he says plainly.

'He’s the one that left me.’ The words fall out of you with the weight of concrete.

'You…’ Kyungsoo starts, raising a hand to scratch his neck, an uncharacteristic showing of nervousness. 'You really should talk to him about all of this.’

'Why? He made himself perfectly clear,’ you counter, anger rising to take over the well of sadness in you. 'He left me. We were going to have forever and he chose to leave. And now I just -’ you pause to take a deep breath.

Though you might not always have spoken your thoughts, they were always brutally honest.

'I don’t know what the fuck he wants. One minute he seems like he’s shoving me away and then last night he sang my mother’s favorite song, looking like I hung the moon for him. I’m confused. I’m tired. My heart just… hurts.’

Kyungsoo sighs and leans back in his chair, lifting a hand to rub his eyes. 'Look, I’m going to say something. And you didn’t hear this from me. But it’s been months and I can’t stand it anymore,’ he sits up and rests his elbows on the tables, giving you the most focused and intense look you’ve ever seen.

Instantly you give him a quizzical stare. ‘I’m tired of two of my favorite people being miserable.’

'He came to me that night, I don’t know if you know this. He was a mess, I called Baekhyun. I’d never seen him cry before, but he was crying. It took us twenty minutes to finally get it out of him. He left you because he thought it was what’s best for you,’ Kyungsoo says and your jaw drops.

'What the - how could I ever be okay without him?’ you start, but he holds up a hand.

'I’m not quite done. He’s never thought he was good enough. You know his family, they only cared about his older brother and his football career. No matter what he did, it was never good enough. Grades, sports, you name it. And so, as you know, he finally let himself be… himself, that summer before you transferred for Junior year. He stopped caring about anything except for what he loved, and I’ve always admired him for it. The way he went all in with music classes and playing in the band, having a good time, and… loving you.’

Kyungsoo pauses and you nod, motioning for him to continue. Though you knew bits and pieces of this, you had no idea how much his family had ignored him. He never talked about them much and you never pushed it, just tried to be there for him however you could. The idea that he didn’t see himself for how amazing he truly is makes your heart hurt.

'So, when you came along, he couldn’t believe someone like you would ever want him. The day you agreed to go out with him, after literal weeks of him trying, was the happiest day of his life,’ Kyungsoo says with a grin.

'I felt the same way,’ you reply in a rush. 'How on earth could someone so confident and cool and handsome want me?’

'You two are the same person, I swear,’ Kyungsoo says with a tilt of his lips.

'Anyways, that night. He knew what you were going to do, that you were going to put your relationship ahead of your future. He told us all about the plans you had made. And then he told us what his father told him, that he was holding you back. That he was worthless in comparison and that he should let you go.’

You start to object and again he holds up a hand. 'I know. He tried his best to be confident by himself, but sometimes the things our family says hurt in the cruelest of ways. Like the well meaning fool he is he decided the only thing to do was break up with you. So you could go to school, and he wouldn’t be ‘holding you back.’ His words, not mine. And no matter what we said over the last few years he stubbornly refused to go after you.’

'But I-’ you start and immediately close your mouth to think. 'I tried to talk to him…’

'Did you? Or did the two of you mope for the last few weeks of school and then never talk again,’ he says gently. ‘You closed off so much you wouldn’t let any of us in but Hitchcock. And she didn’t talk to him for years because of it.’

You try to think back. Surely you would have called or stopped by or tried to talk to him? With a groan you realize he’s right. The two of you are so similar. Both of you assumed the other would be happier, better off, with someone else.

'When he left it felt like confirmation of what I always dreaded. That he was too… everything for me. So no, I never tried. I should have,’ you say sadly.

'Well. You guys were young and in love, and teenagers don’t always make the most rational decisions,’ he laughs gently. 'But, you’re both adults now. You can’t change the past. But maybe you can change the future?’ he says hopefully.

'Yeah, maybe,’ you answer, looking in the direction of Barada. You don’t see Chanyeol, but you can feel his energy. ‘It doesn’t fix what’s between us, Kyungsoo. But thank you for telling me.’

He nods and you resume eating your lunches in a companionable silence.

September 1st, 1997

The Labor Day sale is packed all morning. After a non-stop four days you can’t wait for two days off to do nothing but lay in bed and sleep.

The morning is pleasant enough, and you sell several nicer pieces, including a gorgeous diamond ring to a very nervous young man with wild orange hair.

When you get back from lunch, Donald goes to take his. The afternoon is slow, everyone’s moved on to the food court given the sound of things. You take the pause to tidy up some displays.

When a man walks into the store you feel an inexplicable shiver of unease trip down your spine. Tall, broad shouldered, wearing jeans and an oversized, dark sweatshirt. Several days worth of stubble on his face, unsmiling, his expression severe.

One hand rests in his sweatshirt, folded around something, the other at his side, twitching slightly. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, connecting several things in rapid fire and knowing what you need to do. You desperately wish anyone else was in the store with you, but you’re guessing he was waiting for this opportunity.

‘Can I help you find anything, sir?’ you ask and move from your place at one of the displays, slowly sliding behind the counter. 

You hope it just looks like you’re grabbing some more merchandise, as you keep your focus on him, smiling in a bland, customer service way.

He shakes his head at you, eyes sliding over to the cases with the diamond rings. You run your fingers along the underneath of the counter, pressing the silent alarm.

‘All right, just let me know if you require any assistance,’ you say as evenly as you can, darting a glance to the hand he’s keeping in his sweatshirt.

A few seconds pass and your worst fear comes true. He gives a quick look out into the mall to confirm there’s no one nearby and then turns his attention to you, pulling out a gun from his sweatshirt.

You slowly raise your hands into the air and take a step back from the counter. Your heart feels like it’s beating a mile an hour, threatening to leap out of your chest.

‘Here’s what we’re going to do,’ he says in a gruff, anxious voice. ‘Nice and easy, you’re going to get a bag. Come and open these cases here and start loading up these rings,’ he commands, pointing the gun toward your shoulder. 

‘Next, I know you haven’t been able to make a deposit since the credit union is closed for the holiday, so you’re going to open up the safe and give me all the cash.’

You nod slowly, reaching over with one hand to grab one of the bags. He doesn’t need to know that two people are required to access the cash drop at the back of the safe, hopefully security will be here before it becomes an issue.

You pull out your keys and step up to the counter. In quick succession you unlock the first case and start carefully picking up rings and putting them in the bag. A group of teenagers walk by, laughing, and he pulls the gun in closer to his chest, hiding it behind his bulk.

‘Hurry up!’ he says sternly under his breath and you nod, moving onto the second case.

How long can it take? you wonder. You’ve never had to press the silent alarm before and you didn’t think to ask the manager how long the response time of mall security usually is.

Just as you’re reaching both hands into the second case to grab more rings your attention is drawn to the door by one of the security guards. He’s exactly how you would picture a seasoned mall security guard – ex-marine, flat top hair cut, a truly epic beard. He came in on his anniversary to buy a nice set of earrings for his wife; Dale, you think is his name.

He motions to someone out of your view and suddenly you see several more security guards heading into the stores across from yours and to the right, into the department store. They begin swiftly escorting people out of the mall as you finish up with the second case and move onto the third.

The man in front of you sniffs and wipes his hand across his mouth, bouncing up and down as he taps his foot. You think of all the ways this can go wrong as your hands make quick work of the last case. He could shoot you, he could shoot Dale. Someone else could get hurt, you think, and fear rises in your throat. 

Abruptly your mind turns toward Chanyeol, so close by; there’s no way he would miss out on the Labor Day holiday.

Dale leans back into the store, making eye contact with you. He motions dropping to the ground and then holds out three fingers. You nod as subtly as you can while he drops one finger. You set the rings you’re holding into the bag and he drops another finger.

Taking a deep breath you see him drop the final finger and tilt out of the way, dropping down and laying flat on the floor, curling into yourself. Through the glass you see the robber turn toward the entrance. Upon seeing Dale he wildly grabs for the bags with the hand not holding the gun.

‘Freeze! Drop the gun!’ Dale yells and moves into the store, flanked by two of the other guards. 

The robber grunts in shock and points his gun toward the entrance, letting off a shot with terrible aim, glass exploding as he hits one of the cases.

The sound is explosive in such a small space and you throw your hands over your ears, a ringing echoing around you. The robber spins around the counter, coming to crouch next to you.

He pulls one of your hands off of your ears and screams in your ear. ‘Is there a back way out of here?’ he demands, shaking you.

You look over to see Dale and his fellow guards at the entrance. He’s speaking into a radio and you imagine that he’s calling the police. Distantly, over the ringing, you can hear the sounds of screaming and people rushing out of the mall, startled by the gunshot.

You rapidly shake your head. ‘No, it just leads back to the safe, there’s no back exit,’ you say in a voice you can barely hear, but you know you’re probably yelling.

He swears and puts his hands to his temples, still holding the gun in one hand. He turns toward you, a feverish look in his eye that terrifies you. He rolls up two of the jewelry bags and sticks them in the pocket of his sweatshirt. Roughly grabbing your arm he forces you to stand, pulling you flush against his side.

‘Don’t do anything crazy,’ he demands in your ear. He takes a few steps around the counter, aiming his gun at Dale. Your body shakes with adrenaline, all your effort going to staying still and not making any sudden movements.

‘Let me out of here or I’ll shoot!’ he yells erratically, shaking your arm.

Dale’s eyes widen as he takes in the scene. ‘Don’t do anything crazy now son, we all want this to end peacefully,’ he says in a soothing voice.

‘Fuck!’ to robber swears to himself, putting a hand to his head.

Moments later several armed police officers come into view. You can feel the man shake as he holds you, looking wildly around the store, searching for a way out.

With a wild yell he aims the gun at the nearest police officer and fires. A dull click sounds by your head as you duck, dropping to the ground and pulling out of his grasp while he’s distracted.

You haphazardly roll as far away from him as you can, crouching behind the counter, clapping your hands over your ears once more. Two more shots echo distantly and you watch him get shot in the shoulder twice, blood blooming from the wounds as he falls awkwardly to the side, against the wall.

You don’t scream, your mouth frozen open in horror, feeling so separate from reality its as if you’re in a movie. Seconds later, several police officers come and tackle the man, grabbing his gun and pulling him up. He’s lead out of your point of view and you uncover your ears to hear distant arguing.

‘That’s my girlfriend, please, man. Please let me through!’ you hear a familiar voice calling through the ringing still in your ears.

You shake your head distractedly, coming out of the strange moment, and realize the voice belongs to Chanyeol. 

You put a shaky hand to the counter and stand up as best you can. He’s being restrained by Dale and another security guard, pulling on their arms to try and get through, his gaze frantic.

When he meets your eyes he visibly sags with relief. There’s no sign of the robber or the police officers who took him away.

Abruptly the shock of what happened hits you and your body acts before your mind. Desperately you want Chanyeol’s arms around you; needing something to ground you to reality, to remind you you’re safe.

With a strangled sob you rush around the counter and sprint to him. He pulls back from the guards and moves to the side, opening his arms wide as you collide into him, burying your head in his broad chest.

Your hands cover your face, arms crushed between the two of you. One of his arms wraps protectively around your waist, his other hand holding your head gently. He leans down to speak in your ear.

‘I’m here baby, I’ve got you,’ he says, his voice laced with relief. ‘You’re safe. I’ve got you,’ he repeats and you nod against him, sinking into his warmth.

You don’t know how long you stand there, enclosed in the circle of his arms. But slowly the real world comes back to you. A brusque male voice comes from behind you.

‘Excuse me, miss?’ he asks and you lift your head up to look at him. It’s a police officer, an older gentleman with a salt and pepper handlebar mustache.

He gives you a sympathetic look, holding a notepad and pencil. ‘I know you’ve just been through quite a shock, but I just have to do a few things. First of all, are you okay? Have you been hurt at all?’ he asks.

Chanyeol slides both hands to the side of your face and studies you from head to toe, reassuring himself that you’re in one piece. You scan your body, trying to remember if anything had happened, eventually shaking your head.

‘No, I’m all right. I might have some bruises tomorrow from where he was holding me and when I fell, but no, I’m not hurt,’ you say with a shudder, imagination running wild with images of what might have happened.

‘I’m very glad about that,’ the officer says sincerely. ‘Next, we’ll need to take your statement while it’s fresh in your mind. Would you like to come down to the station, or do it here in the mall?’ he asks. Chanyeol opens his mouth to object but the officer holds out a hand and cuts him off.

‘Son, I know you’re worried about her, but we’ll do this as quickly as we can, I promise,’ he says.

You reach up to grab one of his hands with your own and squeeze, turning so your back is pressed against Chanyeol. ‘Here is fine, I’d rather get this over with,’ you say. Tilting back to look up at Chanyeol you ask, ‘Will you stay with me?’

Consequences be damned, you think, a fierce desire for his presence is all you can think about. He squeezes your hand, his other hand coming to rest against your hip.

He nods. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he says decidedly.

After retrieving your jacket and purse from the store you follow the police officer to the security office in the mall. You answer their questions as best you can, drinking water and relishing the warmth of Chanyeol’s jacket on your shoulders and his arm around your waist.

You recount the robber’s words and actions several times. As you describe what happened you can feel his hand flexing against you, shaking his head in disbelief.

Eventually Joe Simpson comes in with his son Donald, both looking aghast. It takes several minutes to reassure them that you are fine and they finally sigh with relief. You’re reminded again how wonderful and caring the family is.

They insist that you take a few paid days off and call them when you’re ready to come back. You want to wave them off, but after a moment you realize that it’s probably wise to take time to process everything.

Finally, after a couple of hours the paperwork is finished and you’re free to go. You walk back out into the mall and turn to Chanyeol. Reality washes over you and the realization that you’ll have to walk away from him almost tears you apart.

He coughs awkwardly, running his hand through his hair. ‘So…’

You sigh, slipping his jacket off your shoulders and handing it back to him. ‘It’s just adrenaline, my mind just went to the first familiar thing. I appreciate you being there for me, more than you realize. But it doesn’t change anything between us.’

‘I’m not letting you go home alone, I know your roommate is back in Georgia for the holiday,’ he says and you curse the fact that he’s her boss and knows her schedule.

‘Y/N, my life flashed before my eyes today when I realized where that gunshot came from. I’ll sleep on your couch, on the floor. Outside on the porch if I have to. But I just need to make sure you’re alright tonight. Please,’ he says emphatically.

Suddenly a huge yawn overtakes you and you realize how tired you are after the adrenaline has drained out of you. You open your mouth to turn him down a second time but you just don’t have it in you.

The thought of being alone in your house tonight makes you shiver. You give him a small shrug and nod, watching as he sighs in relief.

Together you walk to the pizza parlor so he can grab his keys and coat. In the aftermath of the situation the mall is deserted, save for a handful of employees working to restore order.

When you approach the restaurant you see Kyungsoo behind the counter, cleaning up, shutting down for the evening. He looks up as you approach, his normally neutral face lighting up with relief. He comes around the counter quickly and stops in front of you.

‘I’m so glad you’re okay,’ he says and reaches his arms out to hug you.

He looks uncomfortable for a moment, unsure of whether to proceed. After a beat you step into his arms and give him a strong hug, his arms wrapping around you to hold tight.

‘Thanks Soo, I’m glad everything’s okay too,’ you say into his shoulder.

‘You all right here, man? I was going to take her home,’ Chanyeol says, reaching out a hand to take yours as you pull back from his friend.

'Of course,’ he replies. ‘Don’t even worry about it. Let me know if there’s I can do anything to help.’

The next hour passes in a blur. While Chanyeol gets his stuff you use the pizza parlor’s phone to call your father and tell him what happened. He calms when he realizes Chanyeol is going to take care of you.

When you get to your apartment you’re both too tired to make much of anything for dinner. You and Chanyeol work around each other in the kitchen to make sandwiches.

Time slides around you with a strong sense of déjà vu. Days in high school when you’d do the same thing running together.

Laughing and messing with each other in the odd hours you had together at your house before for father came home from work. Kissing each other against the kitchen counters before heading out for whatever adventures the night would bring.

You eat on the couch, leaning against him in your exhaustion. He watches with a soft smile as you finish your sandwich, your hand slumping against your lap as you drift off to sleep, your one task - to eat - completed.

He finishes chewing his sandwich and sets the plate down on the coffee table gently, without disturbing you. He yawns, feeling his eyes grow heavy and looks down at you. You’re asleep against his shoulder, breathing deeply.

He debates what to do for several seconds before finally resolving to put you in your bed. For the second time in little more than a week he carefully lays you down on the couch. He stands and tidies up as best as he can.

As slowly as possible he works an arm underneath your knees and one behind your back. Standing, he picks you up, holding you to his chest. He doesn’t know where your bedroom is, but he finds the first one easily enough. The stack of LPs next to the simple turntable and bookshelf crammed with books reassures him this one is yours.

He leaves the light off and walks to the bed, laying you down as lightly as he can. He slips off your shoes and reaches for the covers, tucking you in. Satisfied that you’re settled in and safe he turns to leave, pulling off his coat to use as a blanket on the couch.

You stir behind him, turning in the sheets. ‘Stay,’ you call softly, voice heavy with sleep.

He turns back and you’re watching him, both of your hands tucked under your head against the pillow.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks, wanting to be certain it’s what you want. He roots his feet to the floor before he leaps over to the bed in haste.

You nod. Though you’re tired, your eyes are clear and focused in the glow of the hall light.

‘Okay,’ he says quietly, setting his coat on a nearby chair. He kicks off his shoes and then stares down at his jeans, torn as to what to do.

You giggle quietly. ‘You can take them off. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,’ you say with a yawn. ‘Don’t take it as an invitation for any funny business though.’

He gives you a sardonic smile and turns around to unbuckle his belt. He slips out of his jeans and sets them on the chair as well, leaning over to turn off the hall light.

‘Permission to come aboard?’ he asks, repressing a laugh, fumbling his way over to the bed in the near darkness.

‘Yes, you dork. Get over here,’ you answer in a mumble.

He pulls back the covers and slides in, giving you several inches to yourself on the far side of the bed.

‘Goodnight,’ he says, settling in, waiting.

Though his hands itch to hold you, to pull you to him once more so he can cradle you in the safety of his arms, he leaves that up to you.

‘Night,’ you answer softly, turning over and curling up against your pillow.

He lets out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling for several minutes before passing out himself.

You wake up warm, held firmly against a chest, and better rested than you’ve been in ages. You look down to see a large hand protectively holding you.

Turning, you bury your head in Chanyeol’s chest, pressing yourself into the white cotton. You breathe in and melt, the smell of him wrapping around you like a cocoon.

He moves in response, drawing you tighter, sighing softly as he always does when he wakes. You feel him press a kiss to your forehead. Abruptly, you remember what happened, the years since he last held you flooding your mind, and pull back in alarm.

‘Chanyeol,’ you say and he opens his eyes, blinking slowly in the morning light.

‘What? What’s wrong?’ he says, drawing his hand across his eyes to clear the sleep from them.

You back up out of the bed, carefully extracting yourself from the covers. Your body screams the further you get from him, aching to be back in his embrace, to feel the beat of his heart against your cheek again. With a noise of frustration you move to the doorway.

‘We- I’m - I’m going to make coffee,’ you say in a rush, desperate for something to do.

‘Wait,’ he calls. When you turn he’s standing, his shirt as rumbled as his hair. ‘Can we talk about this?’ he asks slowly.

You let out a laugh. ‘Talk about what, Chanyeol?’

‘About us,’ he says insistently, approaching you. ‘About this, finally.’

You take a deep breath, lifting your hands and letting them fall, unable to fight anymore. ‘Yesterday you called me your girlfriend,’ you say looking him plainly in the face.

‘Shit, did I?’ he starts with a laugh. He’s inches from you, his hands clenching and unclenching as though he’s fighting with himself. ‘Wishful thinking maybe,’ he shrugs, giving you a boyish grin.

‘Why did you break up with me?’ you ask in an exhale, your whole spirit tired of not clearing this air between you. Regardless of how things go, you need to hear him say it.

‘Why did I let you go? It’s the stupidest thing in the world,’ he pales, backing up to sit on the bed and dropping his head into his hands. ‘I didn’t want you to stay for me, I didn’t want to hold you back. God, I’m an idiot.’

You step closer, unable to resist touching him, and bring a hand to his shoulder. He looks up at you with tears in his eyes.

‘I was trying to do the right thing for you,’ he says in anguish.

‘I know,’ you answer gently and almost laugh as his face pulls together in confusion. 

‘Kyungsoo told me, though I should have realized it at the time. It’s partially my fault, for letting you let me go. I never felt good enough for you either, so I just… gave up, collapsed in on myself like a dying star.’

Abruptly he pulls you to his lap, moving back on the bed. Your knees come to either side of his thighs, your hands resting on his shoulders to steady yourself. He rests his forehead on the center of your chest, breathing deeply.

‘Can you ever forgive me?’ he asks, his voice muffled against the material of your shirt.

With a sigh you drop your head onto his, your cheek sliding against his hair. His hands wrap around your waist, anchoring you to him as if you’re his salvation.

‘I already did,’ you answer and he whips his head back to look in your eyes, as though desperate to make sure he’s heard you clearly.

‘I don’t want to let you go again,’ he says, his voice thick with passion. ‘I made that mistake once, and if you let me, I’ll happily spend the rest of my days trying to be worthy of you. I’m not perfect, but I’m yours. All of me, forever.’

He sighs, steeling himself, rubbing a hand along your back. ‘But if you tell me you don’t want me. If it’s really, truly over - I’ll stop.’

‘That’s what they say, right, ‘if you love something, let it go’?’ He says with a breathy laugh. ‘I did it once and I could do it again.’

You both know this is the biggest lie he’s ever told, but he grits his teeth in determination. He allows himself to touch you further, hands sliding along your jaw to cup your face. Wanting to be full of you, one last time, if this is the end.

Leaning his forehead against yours, he closes his eyes tightly. When he speaks his voice is barely above a whisper. ‘Just tell me what you want, please. Everything that I am, it’s yours. It always has been. And I’m holding everything I’ve ever wanted in my hands, right now.’

You smile softly at him, your eyes clouding with tears. He’d said the same thing to you the first time you had sex junior year.

Being the good girl that you are, you’ve never lied to your father before. But on a cool early December night you walk out of your house, bag packed as if you’re heading to Hitchcock’s, and dip into Chanyeol’s Jeep parked two blocks away.

His parents cabin is nestled in the woods. It has a rustic wood table, perfect for a big meal. An enormous, stone-inlay fireplace. But both of you are much more interested in one of the beds upstairs.

You spend the entire drive teasing and touching each other and in under two minutes you’ve managed to pull off each other’s shirts and pants, in between laughing and kissing and trying not to fall down the stairs in the darkness.

When he turns on the side lamp, sitting on the bed, you’re only in your bra and underwear. Reverently, gently, he pulls you forward and helps you out of the remaining garments.

Once you’re naked he grins, pulling you to him by your waist so he can press a kiss to the soft skin above your navel. ‘Gorgeous,’ he whispers between kisses. ‘Mine.’

Soon he’s out of his clothes, sheathed, and braced above you. ‘Ready?’ he asks quietly, bending down to kiss you.

You nod and pull him to you, holding yourself against him as he moves inside you. It hurts a little, mostly there’s only the uncomfortable sensation of your body expanding to take him in. Much like your life, you think with a laugh, so narrow without him and now gloriously full.

A beat later you relax, growing accustomed to the perfect fit of him inside of you. Opening your eyes and pulling back you gaze up at him in awe. That anything could feel this good, this right.

That out of all the people in the world, he’s your match. From that first day you met him until your last you know you’ll be ruined for any other man.

Emotion rises in him as well, washing over him as he rests his elbows on the bed so he can hold your face in his hands. Both of you are lost. Looking down at you, brushing his thumb across your cheek he silently asks if you’re ready for him to keep going.

You nod frantically, too overcome with love to do anything but cling to his back as he starts to move. The thrust draws a cry of surprise from you, which morphs quickly into a moan of pleasure so fierce it threatens to rip your soul from your body.

Through that first time you hold onto him as if he’s your anchor. And he holds onto you; his center; his heart, that will always guide him home.

‘I’m holding everything I’ve ever wanted right now,’ he’d said afterwards, cradling you to his chest and breathing deeply.

Something that you’d learned about in ceramics class, that very same day all those years ago, runs through your mind as you sit in his embrace in the early morning light.

‘Kintsugi,’ the instructor had explained, holding up a vase. ‘Is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with a gold lacquer.’

The concept had struck you deeply, something so unspeakably bittersweet about celebrating the cracks, rather than trying to hide them. The idea that things could be stronger in the broken places.

Maybe you could be as well, you and Chanyeol; maybe the bond between you could be delicately filled in with gold.

The past is in the past, nothing can change that. But maybe together you can build something new, something strengthened by your shared hurts instead of diminished by them.

Yesterday made you realize, as all chaos does you suppose, what is most important to you. He is, you finally acknowledge to yourself in a rush as you sit there in his arms.

No matter what’s passed between you, the same truth remains; he’s yours and you’re his and nothing in the world can change that.

‘All I want is you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted,’ you whisper, knowing that he hears you from the furrowing of his brow with emotion and the fierce noise that escapes his chest.

With a sob you fall into his arms and he pulls you on top of him. A perfect fit like always, you think with a smile, breathing him in and smelling the scent that’s as familiar to you as your own.

At once he is greedy for you, needing to touch you with a want bordering on insanity. For weeks, for years, he’s been missing you. His hands slide under your shirt and you moan as his rough palms touch the delicate skin of your waist. He strokes along your flesh so softly you want to scream.

He removes the fabric in one fluid motion, gazing up at your bare skin just as reverently as he did when you were younger. He slots his hand along your neck, guiding your lips down to meet his. You both moan at the contact, your hand tangling in his hair.

You close your eyes, body exploding with sensation as his hands, his lips, connect with yours again. With your free hand you shove at his shirt, pushing it up his chest as you crush your lips against his.

He laughs, wrapping his arm around your waist and sitting up. In seconds he’s freed of the shirt and you hungrily run your palms over the familiar skin of his torso. Your needy fingers stroke the planes of his chest, aching to be reacquainted.

Already he’s tugging at the waistband of your shorts, craving more, leaning forward to taste the sensitive skin of your throat with his tongue. You clasp his neck with both hands, dragging your nails against him, clinging to him as if he’s your only port in a storm.

He’s growing hard between your spread legs and the pressure against your core, his hot mouth nipping below your ear, draws a whine from you.

‘I need you, please,’ he moans, pulling back to look at you with wide, feverish eyes. 

‘I need you, too,’ you echo with a breathy laugh. 

In one motion he picks you up, chuckling deeply in your ear at your squeal of surprise. He finds his pants and digs around for his wallet with one hand. Standing, condom in hand he turns, gently laying you on the bed.

Distractedly he pulls off his underwear, standing gloriously naked before you, exposed in more than one way; the raw expression of need in his eyes as they rake back and forth across your body undoes you. He sheathes himself, more than ready to bury himself inside you.

Tired of waiting, desperate to have him inside you again, you follow suit and tug at your underwear. He blinks and dives into action, hooking his fingers in the fabric and guiding the material off you. When he crawls onto the bed over you, pressing his body against yours, you sink into the mattress with his weight.

His hardness meets your softness, everywhere.

Your breasts press against his firm chest; his thighs slide next to yours, gently opening you to him. His rough, searching lips find yours as he draws his fingers down the length of your body.

‘You’re mine again?’ he asks, sucking in a breath, frozen in time above you.

‘Yes,’ you manage, your eyes falling closed, as his fingers find your clit, stroking you in slow circles.

‘Thank God,’ he breathes, dropping his face, the heat ghosting along your neck.

After a minute you can’t stand it any longer and his name leaves you on a whine. He nods, removing his fingers from you and replacing them with his cock pressed against your wetness.

‘And you’re mine?’ you say in a rush, lifting your hands to hold his face.

‘Only yours. Forever,’ he answers on a groan, sliding his hands up to take yours and hold them above your head. ‘I’m never letting you go again.’

In response you lean up to capture his lips with yours as if you can bind his words of promise to you forever, clasping his hands tightly. 

A beat later and he sinks into you in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. A muffled curse leaves him as he begins to move in you and you wrap your legs around his hips, rocking with him and sighing at the delicious friction.

You’re both lost before long, your noises of pleasure blending together. He thrusts faster, hitting places inside you that only he seems built to reach. With a strangled moan his teeth nip at your neck and you come apart beneath him. He follows a second later with a final wild motion, slamming into you and muttering a curse against your ear.

When you can both breathe normally he cradles you to him, pulling you both under the covers and maneuvering you against him. He sighs and presses a kiss to the top of your head, resting against you, his heat seeping into your bones.

You lazily pick up his hand and hold it to the light. Slowly you surround it with yours, filling the spaces between his fingers until your hands encapsulate his. He leans his head next to yours, moving you further against his chest so he can reach the hand around your head up to join the rest.

His fingers fills in the spaces and he twists your entangled hands against the light. Both of you watch as nothing spills out, no light seeping through. The space between your clasped palms and blended digits is erased as you hold each other.

You tilt your head back to find his lips with yours. At last, you’re together again. This time, no words are necessary; you both know that nothing will ever separate you again.

December 1st, 1997

‘Okay, you’re absolutely sure she’s at lunch?’ Minseok says with uncharacteristic nervousness, glancing behind him.

‘Yes,’ you reply with a laugh, pulling out a tray of wedding rings from the case.

‘I promise I’ll keep an eye out just in case,’ Chanyeol says with a grin from a display near the doorway. ‘You know Hitchcock and Sunshine, they’ll keep your girl talking for hours. Trust me, you have plenty of time to decide.’

Minseok blows out a deep breath and steadies himself, his expression turning wistful as his eyes sweep over the assortment you’ve laid out in front of him.

‘I just want it to be perfect,’ he says quietly, picking up a simple silver ring with a modern cut diamond. He shakes his head and puts it back. Bracing his hands on the counter, he begins to look overwhelmed.

You reach out a hand and rest it briefly on his, pulling back when he looks up. ‘It will be. Just… think about her. What you love about her. How she makes you feel. And pick what ring calls out to you,’ you say reassuringly.

‘I’ll let you look. I trust you not to steal anything,’ you say with a wink and leave him alone at the counter, walking to join Chanyeol by the door.

As you approach he gives you a broad grin and slings an arm around your waist, pulling you close. In the months since you’ve been back together he looks so much happier. The bags under his eyes have all but vanished. He’s writing music again, usually shirtless in your bed, you think, and heat blooms in your cheeks.

You’re slowly filling in the gaps in each other. Rebuilding trust and connection by showing up, day after day. For each other, for this thing between you.

Today he looks thoughtful, rubbing his hand along your waist, smiling down at you with an adorable furrow between his brows.

‘Did you know I almost proposed to you once?’ he says softly, lifting his other hand to stroke softly along your jawline.

‘What?’ you gasp in shock, your mouth falling open.

‘I even asked your father for permission,’ he says, turning bashful and looking up to the ceiling.

‘What did he say?’ you ask quietly, holding your breath.

‘He talked to me for over an hour. Remember how I spent Christmas senior year at your house, sleeping on the couch in the living room?’ you nod in response.

‘I asked him after you went to bed. It was impulsive, I didn’t have a ring or a plan I just… knew you were my future and wanted to see how he felt. He asked me a lot of questions but at the end he said if I did everything in my power to make you happy, he’d give me permission.’

‘I guess I kind of messed that up,’ he continues with a wince. ‘But I look forward to making you happy every day in the future,’ he says, looking down at you with such love and sureness your heart squeezes.

You lean up and kiss under his jaw, running a reassuring hand along his chest and savoring the fact that you’re able to touch him whenever you want once more.

‘Uhh. Not to break up the moment,’ Minseok starts with a laugh. ‘But I found the one.’

‘Perfect!’ Chanyeol says with a grin. He leans down to you, whispering low in your ear. ‘So did I.’


End file.
